


A Slice of Life

by sareliz



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 01:31:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 29,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10561120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sareliz/pseuds/sareliz
Summary: Witness the beginning of the relationship between Tony Stark and Pepper Potts.Originally posted on ff.net, beginning on May 9, 2008, in several parts, by yours truly.





	1. The Dubai Alibi

**Author's Note:**

  * For [linusmir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linusmir/gifts).



> This story begins with some what-if's concerning the deleted scenes of the movie, which were brilliant, plot-wise. And then it continues on from there. Enjoy!

"Jarvis, what sort of psychological training have you had?" Pepper asked as she walked back to her perch atop the wooden stool next to the petrified tree coffee table in her boss's living room. She would call up the numbers and get the ball rolling on the party in Dubai in just a moment, but right now she had to arrange for something else, first.

"My databases include general knowledge on the subject, and the ongoing maintenance of my personality matrix has required some of my own… research on the subject. Why do you ask, Miss Potts?"

"Jarvis, I think it's time that you become very well versed in the subject of psychology. Start chronologically and work your way through the different medical models and divergent views until you've gotten through the more modern, holistic theories. Then analyze Mr. Stark, paying particular attention to his behavior since he returned from Afghanistan."

"Yes, Miss Potts."

"When do you estimate you will be able to accomplish this?"

"50 hours is a conservative estimate."

"Alert me when you've finished and reached your conclusions, whenever that is."

"Yes, Miss Potts."

"Oh, and Jarvis? I don't see that we need to mention this to Mr. Stark unless he specifically asks about it, do you?"

"My lips are sealed."

"Thank you, Jarvis."

* * *

It wasn't her first clue that something very, very strange was going on. She knew Tony Stark, and she knew Strange. She knew when strange and Tony Stark intersected, and she knew that relatively speaking, he was rarely strange.

No, that wasn't it. Pepper knew him, knew his habits, knew his peccadilloes, knew most if not all of his kinks, and she knew what was normal _for him._

This was not normal for him. She was the one who hired these flight attendants, after all. She was the one who wrote up their contracts that included their mandatory monthly health screenings and the clauses that protected them, should they decide upon a sudden change in career. She knew precisely what happened on these flights, because HR didn't have oversight on Tony's personal service providers – his body guards, his chauffer, his pilot and flight attendants, the managers of his other houses – she did. She oversaw them all. It was all part and parcel of providing anything that Mr. Stark requires. To say the least, Pepper Potts knew what was normal for her boss, and this was not it.

He was ignoring the flight attendants. In fact, he had just gone to bed alone, and ordered them not to disturb him. Pepper was sure it might have happened once or twice before – statistically speaking in the last seven years, it must have happened at least once – but it was still abnormal behavior. Alone, it might not have been a strange occurrence, but this incident did not stand alone.

It started with the press conference. That was officially strange, and it was the first of the strange occurrences in the adult life of Anthony Edward Stark. The strangeness continued in a quiet way with the lack of girls in and out of the house, though admittedly, he didn't go out to find them. Which was another thing, as well.

And then there was the matter of the piece of machinery in his chest. After that incident, she'd had Jarvis pull up the schematics for her to look at, and had him walk her through the design. She wondered how it had originated – she imagined he hadn't put it in on his own. Had they tortured him? Was this the product of that? Before the arc reactor – which was clearly of his own design and make – did they have him hooked up to something, something they could easily pull the plug on? And how did he manage to build anything at all? What had been going on during those three months? He'd looked touseled and stiff and a little banged up in his Armani when he stepped gingerly off the plane, but his persona was firmly in place – so much so that the wheelchair behind him looked out of place. But that couldn't have been the case. Something happened back there, something that accounts for the strangeness in the here and now.

It wasn't strange for Tony to spend time in his garage, tinkering. It _was_ strange for him to be down there for weeks, even with the informal leave he'd taken on Obadiah's recommendation. Though she was loathe to admit it as such, the holding pattern she'd been in for the past three months seemed somehow to be continuing. And that was strange as well. He wasn't working, he wasn't networking, he wasn't running his business. He wasn't meeting with the engineers, he wasn't writing proposals, he wasn't wooing Senators or Members of Congress. He wasn't partying and hobnobbing.

He was working in his basement on things that go bang in the afternoon, if not bump in the night. He was working on mechanized boots and gloves and flight stabilizers that were not _originally_ intended to be weapons, however much they seemed to be. Jarvis was mum, but Pepper was smart, and hadn't gotten her job on the basis of her looks.

Something had happened in Afghanistan, something that explained the present day Tony Stark.

And just when she thought she understood what was going on, when they had kissed on the balcony of the Disney Ballroom, he disappeared.

"I don't want to fuck this up," he murmured, his eyes wide and dark as they pulled back from one another. She swallowed harshly and took a deep breath as her hope and her dread had a knock-down drag-out fight in her abdomen.

"I would like a drink," she replied, trying to gather her self together, explaining just what sort of drink she wanted.

But then he'd disappeared. She didn't have much of the party spirit in her after that, so she made the few contacts she needed to before she left, and went home. It was one in the morning when she received a call from him, though not the call she had hoped for. He was all business, again, and perhaps it was for the best.

And when she went down into his workshop 25 minutes later, slowing as she went, she saw a scene she did not expect. Staring vacantly at the missing Intelliglass panels, the hugely damaged and scattered classic cars that were normally lined up and in pristine condition, her right hand automatically rose to punch in her security code, but of course there was nothing there. She saw him in profile, all dressed up and sitting calmly in his leather chair at the sitting area. _Pensive_ was the flash of insight that seemed out of place in all of the chaos and destruction that was his private sanctuary. This, for the man who liked things just so.

She went to open the door, but of course, she hadn't entered the code, so it was locked. As she went to walk around, wincing at each crunch and crackle of broken glass under her shoes, she heard his serious, yet darkly comic comment.

"Careful, the door's sticking."

As if that explained everything. It looked like a warzone down here. "What happened here?" she asked, still somewhat stunned and not quite able to process everything that she was taking in.

"Broken glass."

If she hadn't known him better, she would have thought that multiple personalities might be an issue. It was clear that he had broken the glass. But how could he have done such damage to his cars? The cars he loved? And how was he physically able to do it? It looked like he'd dropped one on the other.

"What's the emergency?" she asked, confused, and beginning to get a little annoyed. She hadn't even taken off her coat, with the vague idea that the emergency might explain why he'd left her at the party. But though the scene looked chaotic, her boss seemed to be fine.

"I would like to throw a party."

On the surface it sounded like the old Tony. …And yet, it really didn't. It was a complete non-sequiter. It was very strange.

"So, could you get the house in Dubai ready, please?"

"Now?" she asked incredulously. He was calling her over at one in the morning to organize and emergency party in _Dubai?_

"Yep," was the only thing he said. But there was something about the way he said it. It was an emergency. Something had happened. Something had happened after he left her at the party. Something had happened that made him desecrate his own sanctuary. Something that made a party in Dubai necessary, and she could see it going on in the background behind his eyes, behind his calm, reclined demeanor.

"Sure," she replied. Beginning to put pieces of the puzzle together, still not knowing what the picture was turning out to be.

Whatever it was undoubtedly involved flight stabilizers on the palms of his hands that doubled as weapons, and wherever he had intended to fly off to, Dubai was closer to it than Malibu.

"Thanks," he said, and smiled. It was not his normal grin. It was that strange smile that only turned up now and again, the smile that said, 'yes, something is going on, and no, you're going to have to figure it out for yourself.'

It was only after she got upstairs to where she left her purse on the coffee table, after she instructed Jarvis to educate himself, and after she started making a few calls that she figured out another piece of the puzzle.

"Hey Potts," he buzzed through the house intercom that showed up on one of Jarvis' interactive panels on the coffee table.

"Yes, sir?" she asked, muting her conversation on the other line with the caterers in Dubai.

"I'm gonna need some fireworks, and I'll have more luggage than usual. Get a size two cargo transport over here. I'll have it stacked and labeled in the garage. I want the party rocking when we arrive. We leave in two hours."

" _We,_ sir?"

"You're coming, too, Pepper. No excuses."

"How long will we be in Dubai?"

"Not long. In and out."

"Just to party," she said, the statement not quite a question.

"Just to party."

With that the intercom clicked off. She could call the caterers back, she thought, finishing up the preliminaries with them as she gathered up her things to leave the house.

"Jarvis, please make sure that Mr. Stark leaves in time to make his flight."

She left before she heard the AI's response, and before she pulled away, she was on the phone with the groggy head of the flight crew. She mentally promised them very nice Christmas bonuses this year. Happy was next, and by the time she was home she'd contacted her liason at the SI depot who would have a truck out to pick up Tony's gear within the hour.

Tony's gear.

What in God's name had Tony been building and testing down there? Undoubtedly it was legal, but only in the sense that what the government does not yet know about, it cannot legislate against. Which meant that the party in Dubai was doubly convenient. It would be closer to whatever he wanted, and it would provide an alibi.

An alibi which apparently Pepper herself was a part of. It wouldn't be the first time.

* * *

Walking through the house as the early morning light streamed in, wondering about breakfast and coffee, and not thinking much about Tony, because perhaps he decided not to do whatever he'd planned after all, after finding those girls. After all, it had been a while, and it wasn't unlike him to get sidetracked. She walked through the house, seeing the sleepy and occasionally still wakeful human detritus of the party, she walked through a curtained enclosure and was brought up short when she saw her boss. Wrapped in smoking metal that looked too big for him.

"Hey."

There was a drink in his hand. He looked like he'd collapsed onto the chair. He blew some of the smoke that was getting in his eyes away.

"Get me out of here."

She didn't move. It didn't look like he could move. People were starting to wake up. Soon they'd be moving around.

"How?" she asked, taking a step closer, and then stopping again.

She followed his instructions, but even with the so-called emergency release mechanisms, it was hard going.

"I designed this stuff to come off," he remarked, but Pepper only gave him a dirty look as she tugged harder on his shoulder, stumbling back when it finally gave way.

"Where does all this stuff go?"

"There's a box the size of a casket on the second floor, in one of the rooms with a balcony."

"Oh, that's very helpful."

He shrugged and took another drink before putting it down again and trying to get his boot off with his recently freed arm as Pepper went around to the other side to work on that shoulder.

"How did you get all of this on?"

"I brought Dummy and his friends."

"And where are they now?" she asked, never pausing in her work. It was very clear to her that she was racing against the clock to preserve whatever alibi he'd created for himself.

"Upstairs in the room with the balcony."

"Again, very helpful," she replied, her voice rising and falling depending on whether or not she was trying to yank something off just in that moment.

"I'm sure they'd have the edge of efficiency over you."

She glared at him, and with one tremendous pull, freed up his other shoulder.

"Breastplate next. Come on."

She leaned over him, trying to find the release mechanism he had described. One worked perfectly, the other seemed jammed. She circled around to the other side, but ended up still with an awkward position, half leaning over him.

"Move your leg a little. Thanks," she said, straddling his thigh as she pushed with all of her might on the release. Just as it clicked, the curtain behind her moved and a gasp was heard.

Instantly, Tony pulled her down onto his thigh. His arms, freed and now clad only in an odd neoprene, circled around her and even as he pulled her hair free of its tie, obscuring his face and upper body with it, he moaned out quite audibly, " Oh, _God,_ Pepper, you're so _kinky."_

The metal underneath her thighs was cold and organically formed like massive musculature. Regaining he balance somewhat, she leaned into him and did her best to cover the metal bits she thought might still be visible on his upper body.

She had no idea if the person had left yet, so she decided to go for it while she could. She momentarily buried her nose at the back of his neck, where the metal met the man. He was sweaty and bleeding, but she'd still take him, if only he'd get his head out of his ass.

"You smell nice. Are they gone?" he whispered softly into her ear.

She moaned and flipped her hair around to further obfuscate him as she looked behind her.

"Yes," she replied, sitting up straight and away from him. She remained perched on his thigh, though. She took hold of his breastplate pulled and wiggled it until it popped free. She was somewhat dismayed to find that there was something underneath it that also needed to come off. He shifted, though, and whatever was on his back sloughed off onto the chair, and he lifted the remaining webbed metal yoke off, right over his head.

"I can get the rest from here. Go get the box and bring it down here. And get me some coffee. And a shower. I want a shower. And then we're gone."

Of course, his hands were on her hips, like it was the most natural place for them to be. And her hands were resting on his shoulders, like it was normal to be sitting on his leg like this, looking down at battle worn face. Without thinking, she brushed a lock of hair away from his sweaty forehead.

"I'll put the first aide kit in the master bath," she murmured.

"You do that." His voice was soft and gravelly. His hands moved up from her hips to circle her waist.

Pepper found herself leaning in, her palm cuping the side of his face, avoiding the cuts oozing blood. She tilted her head and leaned down. She brushed her lips over his once, and then again before he opened his mouth. Their tongues entwined, and it was a kiss that was every bit as sweet as the one they shared only 24 hours before. It was every bit as sweet, if not tinged with a bit of desperation.

"Have I already fucked this up?" he asked, not meeting her eyes as they broke apart.

"Yes," she replied softly. She caught his gaze and raised an eyebrow. "But not irrevocably," she added.

They shared another soft, short kiss before she got up and pulled the hem of her little black dress back where it should be. She took her white jacket off and draped it over the mess of red metal on the table in front of him.

Tony gave out a low whistle. "You're looking good, Potts."

She raised her eyebrow again. She was a few steps away, but she paused to turn back and address him. "You should know," she said softly, "that I insist on monogamy in my partners."

Pepper watched his lips quirk as he tried to restrain a smile. "I can handle that."

"I don't like it when you wander off with girls on your arms."

"It was a cover. I left before it got interesting."

"I'll be your cover the next time."

"You were my cover the next time."

She raised an eyebrow that begged him to stop splitting hairs.

"Okay," he conceded. "Message received. Go get my box?" he asked, a look of sweet innocence on his face again.

Ten minutes later she returned with his bathrobe and a cup of espresso. She brought them into him before she went to drag in the box, which had been, per her orders, left just outside the curtain.


	2. I'm Working On It: An apology, to begin with

Like most of his good ideas, this one came from out of nowhere. Or perhaps it was better to say that it came from nowhere, but was laid on the foundation of those two moments of the last six months – forgetting her birthday again, and the moment of seeing her from across the ballroom in that blue dress.

And of course, the idea was set in the context of reality, and shape of his life. And that life had dramatically changed the moment his chest was penetrated by shrapnel that came from his own factory. And though the world had not quite caught up to the state of his reality, his days of being the playboy of the western world were over. It just seemed so unimportant now.

Of course, with Obadiah gone, he was going to have to be much more present in Stark Industries, and business would be taking up much more of his time from now on. But to be certain, he was in a better position with the board now that stock had jumped 78 points since the press conference two weeks ago.

Still, he thought as he verified the right stores in downtown L.A. to go to with Jarvis, there would be enough time for everything. There always was. And somehow there would be enough time for _this_ , this good idea of his, though he was damned if he knew how to go about it. He'd never actually been in a meaningful relationship in his life. He wasn't precisely sure why he wanted to start now, or at least, he wasn't able to put it into words, but there was something about her that called to him in an almost foreign way. She knew him. She knew every dirty little secret, plus all of the dirty little facts that were never secrets at all, and she was still around. She was the perfect assistant, it was true, but Tony couldn't help but wonder if he played his cards right, if Pepper might not be willing to become the perfect superhero's girlfriend.

But first things come first. He needed to properly apologize for leaving her on the roof of the Disney ballroom before anything else. And this, for better or worse, was not something that he'd ever done before.

Which perhaps explained her confusion as the car pulled up smoothly to the high-end boutique. Pepper looked over at him with the question in her eyes as they waited for the door of the Bentley to be opened.

"And why are we here?" she asked.

He got out of the car without answering and adjusted the sunglasses on his face as he held out a hand to her, taking over the usual job of the chauffer, as he did upon occasion. This time though, he held on to her hand for perhaps just a moment longer than necessary.

"This, my dear Pepper, is an apology. Savor it."

"An apology for what?" she asked, her voice tinged with wariness as she followed him toward the boutique.

"An apology for abandoning you so cruelly at the Fireman's Benefit."

Tony watched her blink as he held the boutique door open for her.

"This really isn't necessary, Mr. Stark," she said, her tone formal in that weirdly intimate way.

"Oh, but it is, Miss Potts. In fact, I absolutely insist," he replied with the same strange formal intimacy bred over the last nine years.

And so they shopped. Three hours and five stores later she had three new suits, a gorgeous evening gown, seven pairs of shoes and a very intriguing set of lingerie.

"Tony," she had said with something like panic in her voice, "we are not going into Agent Provocateur. You are not buying me anything from that store."

He hadn't stopped moving toward the door.

"No," she said quietly, but frantically.

"Yes," he said with calmness and serenity, already imagining the lovely Miss Potts in a white garter belt and silk stockings. Yes, he thought, a nice virginal white for Pepper Potts. While it was a statistical improbability that she actually was a virgin, relatively speaking she had nothing on him, so white it would be.

"No." The whites of her eyes were showing.

He took her hand in his and rubbed her knuckles with his thumb. "We don't have to buy anything, just come inside. That's all. Just come inside." He applied a steady pull to her hand and when she finally relented, he tucked the hand in the crook of his arm and pulled her close to him.

"Tony," she started, speaking in such a low voice no one else would hear. "Why are you doing this?"

"I told you. This is an apology," he remarked calmly.

"You've already apologized enough. I know how much you hate shopping for other people. Remember? I do all your shopping for you?"

"Well, then you can think of this as a treat for me, doing so well in my apologizing, because I guarantee you that I'll enjoy this store." He fingered a red teddy as they walked by and glanced up to see that Pepper's blush came close to the color of the lace.

Wandering nonchalantly by the section with the garter belts, he snagged a white one in her size – he'd been paying attention at the other stores. Size 6 dress, size 8 shoes, preferably with a four inch heel that brought her to exactly 6'1" – the perfect height, in his opinion.

"If you think I'm wearing that for you, you're out of your mind."

Tony looked over at her, all innocence. "Pepper, I'm flattered that you'd even think of it."

"I'm not wearing it. For anyone. Ever."

"Don't like the color?" he asked, reaching back for a black one before changing his mind and grabbing a pale blue one instead.

"It's a garter belt!" she said with quiet vehemence, and a light to her eyes he found fascinating.

"Yeah," he replied, raising a single eyebrow, grinning, and staring her dead in the eye.

She glared at him. "You know," she said, "you haven't had any of your… traditional companionship since you go back. That's six months now. Perhaps you ought to look into that, sir."

Tony shifted so he was standing right in front of her, and held both of her hands for a moment. "Funny, about that. My tastes seem to have changed somewhat. My… traditional companionship no longer seems quite so compelling." And with that he turned around and wandered off into the aisles, seemingly leaving her alone.

Of course, fifteen minutes later, he came back with an armload for her to try on.

And three minutes later, he knocked on the door.

"Don't I get to see?"

"No."

"You modeled for me in all the other shops."

"Absolutely not."

"Maybe later?"

"I wouldn't count on it."

But not long after she did emerge, there was a large pile of rejects that did not include the pale blue garter belt. He said nothing, nor gave any indication of his barely suppressed glee.


	3. I'm Working On It: A different crew, a different view

A month has passed since he'd bought her lingerie. It's not that she was trying to dwell on it, but it stuck out in her mind as one of the more emotionally conflicted moments to date, and it was a conflict that had yet to be resolved.

It wasn't that she didn't find him sexy. Of course he was sexy. He was Tony Stark, sexy, brilliant, and obscenely wealthy, if nothing else. Rather, it was what he did with what he'd been given. Pepper didn't judge, of course. It was Mr. Stark's life to lead in whichever way Mr. Stark so chose. It was simply that it had always been fairly easy for her to keep a certain distance from the fact that he was, as her friends reminded her, 'sex on a stick' because of his ability to demonstrate that fact with nearly every beautiful woman he saw. Tony Stark knew just how irresistible he was. And for Pepper, that made him oh-so-resistible.

Except of course, things had begun to change. Maybe other people didn't notice yet, but she'd noticed right away, though mentioning it had been out of the question. Was it post-traumatic stress? Perhaps. But Jarvis had been supplying her with daily reports since he first returned from Afghanistan about his sleep – how much, and how peaceful – and there had been nothing of interest. With the possible exception of his latest obsession, he behavior didn't even begin to qualify for such a thing.

No, issues of superheroes aside, there were other, perhaps more significant changes that have occurred with Mr. Stark of which the press had not yet gotten wind. And this, Pepper thought, this was emblematic of them.

As they walked into Tony's jet they were greeted by the three flight attendants – two rather matronly looking women, and one man, all well dressed in the Stark Industries uniform. These were not the trio of bombshells that Pepper had secured for Tony two years ago.

Putting her briefcase next to her seat at the conference table, across from where he'd already bonelessly melted into his own chair, Pepper just raised an eyebrow. The cabin crew were milling about, fulfilling their last minute flight duties, and as one silently slipped a scotch in front of him and a bottle of water in front of her, he just grinned, staring her down and refusing to look away.

"Before we left," Pepper said, breaking the moment and coming back to the business at hand, "Jarvis reported that the Inteliglass display panels had been successfully delivered and set up in the conference room. Also, the modified workstation you requested has been set up and tested – it is fully functional. We should have full access to him with a negligible delay time."

"Good. Any last minute RSVP changes?"

"The Secretary General had a shift in schedule, and will be attending after all."

He just nodded absentmindedly, and the ice clicked and clanged against the glass as he took a sip of his scotch.

"Tony, I…" she started to say before she caught herself and wondered where her brain had floated off to.

Sadly, she had his undivided attention once more. Quickly grabbing onto another, safer topic than the one she was going to broach, she continued on, blithely ignoring the intimate look of inquiry on his face. It didn't do to dwell on what tone of voice she'd probably just used.

"Would you like to go over your speech, sir?"

"That's not what you were going to say. What where you going to say, Pepper?" He was still somewhat reclined in his seat, and his eyes were only opened to half-slits, but she couldn't help but think there was still something predatory about his demeanor.

She smiled slightly and exhaled all at once. "Oh, nothing important. Would you like to go over that speech?"

He sat forward, all intense and still somewhat serious. His shoulders seemed to roll with the slight sway of his body as the plane began to taxi, his left shoulder and then the right as he put his elbows on the table between them. "Everything you say is important to me, Pepper Potts. And so I would like it very much if you'd tell me, right now, what you were going to say, just a moment ago."

Pepper swallowed. Why was she so nervous? She had no call to be this nervous. This was ridiculous. "I just wanted to say," she said, looking away momentarily before steeling her nerve and looking back to meet his eyes, "I'm really proud of you for holding this conference."

It was a full heartbeat later that his face transformed – softening into a little smirk, a quirk of the eyebrow, a tilt of the head.

"Miss Potts," he said, his voice a low whisper, carrying almost an admonishing tone. "Are you becoming a card-carrying, tree-hugging, liberal humanitarian?"

"Mr. Stark, I believe _that_ is the epithet the media has been throwing at you, not me. I, as per company policy, have no comment."

"Ah!" he said, as if he'd found a chink in her armor. "Are you or are you not about to attend a secret meeting with some of the foremost advocates of peace and liberal social policy in the world?"

"No sir. I just called them together for you."

"Now you're splitting hairs, Potts."

She sighed. He was teasing, but it was true. "What would you have me say, sir?" Her question came out slightly more brittle than she'd planned.

He got serious again – he'd been doing this more often, she noticed. "I just want you to say what you mean." His voice was still little more than a whisper. "I just want you to know you can say what you mean whenever you want to."

All over again, conflict twisted around her heart. Didn't she always say what she meant? Of course she did! …Except those times when it was more diplomatic, and frankly, easier to let him win the argument. Of course, it rarely got to the argument stage. She usually just failed to mention those things she thought he'd take exception to… Well, shit. That was probably what he was talking about.

"Sir, you're my _employer_ ," she said, trying to layer the last word with special emphasis so she wouldn't have to get specific with what she meant.

"For now."

Her eyebrows rose automatically as her eyes widened. "Am I being fired?"

"Do you want to be fired?"

"Not particularly," she said calming down as she realized he was just being Tony. "You know I hate job hunting."

"Then you're not being fired."

"What, then?" she asked softly, wondering if this had anything to do with the roof of the Disney ballroom, or the lingerie apology, or the lack of dancing girls in the main cabin – she would need to check if this was a temporary change or a permanent one.

His lips quirked a bit, as if he couldn't quite make up his mind what sort of expression he wanted to adopt. "We've touched on this before now, Pepper Potts. You're all I've got. You admitted the same. I think that makes us already just a bit more than employer and employee.

"Now, come on, you've planned this entire conference well, and I don't need to practice my speech. Let's finish the last of the review from accounting and call the workday finished."

"And then what?" she asked.

He only smiled in response.

Four hours later, accounting, steak, and some good merlot behind them both, they were both sitting before the large screen TV, ostensibly watching one of Tony's old favorites, "The Hunt for Red October." This was true, except that he had promptly stretched out on the length of the chaise and put his head in her lap.

"What are you doing?" she asked, not just slightly alarmed.

"Taking a nap. It's wide enough if you want to curl up, too," he remarked, and she could hear the amusement in his voice. Of course, it was wide enough for two, though just barely. And knowing Tony, he'd probably have his hands down her skirt – or up it, come to think of it – before they'd even gotten a blanket and some pillows.

No, thank you, Mr. Stark.

"There are other places I can curl up if I get the urge, thank you."

He responded with a rumbled murmur. "But I'd keep you toasty warm. You know how chilled it can get in here."

"That's because you prefer it cold enough to see a woman's nipples, Tony."

He chuckled. "Good point." He sighed, and continued, but his voice was fading into a faint mutter. "Tell 'em to turn up the heat from now on. Fuckin' tired of being cold."

And then he was asleep. It would be hours still before they arrived in Johannesburg, before they would be greeted by the retired Bishop of Capetown and the Irish rocker with a conscience. It would be hours before he explained to a group of a dozen men and women that he wasn't a humanitarian, just an industrialist and an engineer, but the day that shrapnel from one of his own creations was imbedded into his chest was a day he had a change of heart. It would be several hours yet before Jarvis would be displaying the product of the brainstorming of the impromptu think tank Tony had called together to help him discern a new direction he might take Stark Industries.

It was a working conference, and in four days he would only manage to get 12 hours of sleep. In between the work of the think tank and the work of networking between sessions, he could be found in the lounge area of their suite, at his workstation, drafting preliminary possibilities until she chased him to his bed.

That first night he'd gotten back up again to continue working until breakfast came, but thereafter he promised to be good and go to sleep if only she would join him. As it was, they compromised, and that compromise found Pepper tucking him in three nights in a row, each time remembering how she had found herself inadvertently stroking his hair on the plane as he slumbered in her lap. Each time she realized, she would stop, and then before she knew what was going on, she was stroking him again.


	4. I'm Working On It: A confession of sorts

Tony Stark was not always a man who did things according to the plan. Or, a better way to think of it perhaps, was that he always operated according to his _own_ plan, which was subject to constant revision and all out change at a moment's notice. Indeed, this was one of the qualities that made him a brilliant engineer – he understood the traditional ways and means, but he never felt particularly tied to them. It was also one of the qualities that made him difficult to live with, hard to follow, and nearly impossible to manage. It was all most people could do to just keep up with him, from his chauffer to his engineers. Except Pepper, of course – Pepper kept up just fine. She was occasionally two steps ahead. Now and then she even managed him without him realizing it until afterwards. But this particular change of plan had nothing to do with Miss Virginia Potts. It had everything to do with the short, barrel-chested black man in a bright fuchsia shirt who was presently standing in front of him.

They were alone in the conference room, as both had silently lingered for reasons of their own until Tony had looked up and saw the old man smiling at him.

"You got a minute?" Tony asked, as the plan began to change in his head. It was in flux and just at the moment he had no idea how it would turn out. He didn't even know what the next words out of his mouth would be, though that wasn't all too unusual.

"Of course," said the man kindly. He had an open face – the kind, Tony realized, that Obi had only ever managed to badly imitate, but not really capture, not like this man could. Not like Pepper could, sometimes. "Come. Sit down." He invited Tony with a wave to the chair next to him. "Now. You will call me Desmond, and I will call you Anthony, alright? None of this "Archbishop and Mr. Stark" business."

Tony quirked a grin both at the man's lilting South African accent as well as at his directness.

"Good. Now. There is a lot going on for you right now," the man said in all earnestness. He spread his hands out, as if accepting a gift. "Quite a lot of change in your life. What would you like to talk about, Anthony?"

Tony snorted, because didn't that just sum it up? But what did he want to talk about? Everything. Nothing. He didn't know. He told Desmond as much.

"Yes you do," the older man contradicted him.

"Yeah. I guess. I—do you hear confessions?" Tony had no idea where that came from - left field, possibly.

"Yes. Do you wish to make one?"

"I—maybe. I think so. I mean, I'm not Christian or Catholic. Not sure I'm down with this 'God' thing."

"And yet…"

"And yet. …I don't know how to do this. I—"

"Let me guide you for just a moment, Anthony."

Tony nodded and felt a tension he hadn't known existed, evaporate. The old archbishop told him about the need to be willing to change and give up old patterns. He went on a bit about God and forgiveness, and did more than just imply that it was for everyone (had Christianity changed while he wasn't paying attention?) and finally the old man got around to the secrecy involved, but that's when Tony couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Desmond, I really don't care who you tell. There's nothing I'm going to talk about that isn't already widely known."

"But Anthony, that is the point. It's not that I keep a secret. It's not that I don't tell. It's that once you confess it, once you give it up, give it away, you can't take it back. You change your life so it doesn't happen again. It no longer exists. _It no longer exists._ And so I ask you – are you willing for these things to longer exist for you?"

Tony had to think about that. He knew he wanted something different for himself. He wanted to get out from under the mantle of 'Merchant of Death'. He never wanted to be accused of being a mass murderer again. He didn't want to sell any more weapons, _ever_ , and he wanted to take what was out there off the market.

But it went even deeper. It was like the first 21 years of his life he'd missed his childhood, missed having fun, going to parties, and for the last 12 years he'd been trying to make up for lost time. It was the parties and the girls and the booze, and just being so irresponsible all the time, ignoring the quiet irritation of those trying to keep him from driving off the cliff, like Rhodey and Pepper.

Tony knew he wanted to change, and there was a part of him that would have loved to own a magic wand to rewind the last 12 years. There was another part of him, though, that found the 'it no longer exists' bit daunting. There were implications to that sort of thing. It wasn't just about a god he wasn't sure existed maybe considering not sending him to a hell he wasn't sure existed, or even getting a bit of a reprieve from the staggering and occasionally overwhelming guilt in the here in now… It meant that Tony would have to forgive himself.

He just wasn't sure if he was ready for that, yet.


	5. I'm Working On It: Job security

Pepper liked to do Yoga, but there always came a point when she started to think of her boss. It had always been the case. It had been years ago when it first started, when she was first encouraged to fold herself into an oddly comfortable pretzel shape called Half-Pigeon, and at that moment she had the realization that the same people who invented Yoga also came up with the Kama Sutra. There were certain postures in Yoga (and Half-Pigeon was one of them, in Pepper's opinion) that seemed to just scream, "I'm flexible! Come have sex with me!" Anything that screamed sex reminded her of her boss.

For a long time, Pepper just didn't like Half-Pigeon.

It wasn't that she thought badly of he boss because he was an absolute man-slut, it was just that she had a reputation to maintain, and a job – in the last nine years, she'd never noted him giving a repeat performance, and neither had Jarvis. It was a wonder that he had a clean bill of health and wasn't just teeming with disease. So really, it was fine to think of Tony Stark and sex, but it had always been completely verboten in her mind to think of herself in that equation as well.

So then why was she staying even longer than usual in Half-Pigeon? Pepper didn't particularly want to think about the implications of that. Or of her move to Full-Pigeon, which she rarely went into.

But after her shower and a cup of coffee, Pepper selected one of the apology suits to wear for the day. And for the fifth time in the last two months since he'd bought it for her, she put on a pale blue garter belt.

Which meant nothing, absolutely nothing. She hadn't told him about wearing it before and she had no intention to do so now – it was none of Tony Stark's business to know what sort of underwear she was wearing. It meant nothing, except that it was an interesting piece of underwear, you know? Not entirely comfortable at first, but you never know when you might need to feel at ease in seriously sexy underwear.

Not that she was planning some sort of midnight tryst with Agent Coulsen (who had a nice smile and lovely eyes), or even James, the flirty engineer on the GP radar project (not that he ever flirted where Tony could see him), but you know, just in general.

It was a rationalization that worked, most of the time. It worked until Tony would look at her, really look at her at any given point in the day, and just hold her gaze. Just last week when she was updating him on the reports sent over by the DOD on some of their non-weapons contracts that were still active, she caught him staring.

"Tony, are you even listening to me?" she said, lowering her clipboard to her side slightly. They were at the office and he at his desk, but per usual she'd come around the side to talk to him and he'd turned to face her, momentarily abandoning the work on his welcome piece that would accompany the annual report. He was staring into her eyes, leaning back in his chair.

"I'm savoring every word." His suit jacket was unbuttoned and his tie had slipped aside just slightly. She could see the outline and just barely make out the glow of his arc reactor.

"Yes, but are you listening?" She herself was somewhat distracted, what with the outline and the glow. Somehow it seemed so intimate. She was trying not to look, trying to maintain eye contact, but she could see it from her peripheral vision.

"Not entirely," he responded, and his words were quick and light and Pepper was suddenly so glad his office door was closed. "Is job security the issue? Is that why we're not dating?"

"Mr. Stark, you don't date."

"Miss Potts, it's not for lack of trying, or haven't you noticed?"

Pepper ignored the soaring voice of encouragement inside her head. "I have noticed that you never invite the same woman to your bed twice. Or any bed for that matter. Doesn't have to be yours."

"That was then. It's a brave new world now, Pepper Potts."

"Yes, I've noticed, you've been a veritable monk these last months."

"Ridiculous. I masturbate far too often to be considered a monk."

Oh, God she was blushing. "I'm sure I don't need to know that, sir."

"Are you? Are you sure? Because I could provide details, you know. How long, how often, where – the shower is nice, for instance, but also—"

"Tony!" her interruption was quiet but frantic.

"Yes, love?"

"I—I—" and then her brain shut down. Had he just called her 'love'?

"I agree. Yes. Let's talk about job security. Stupid of me not to have thought of this before. Okay. No matter what happens between us, you always have a job at Stark Industries, if you want it, in this position, or another of your choice. If you don't want it, how about a level 3 Golden Parachute, and glowing recommendations – though with that severance package, you could start up your own charitable foundation and run it yourself."

"That's… I…" How had the conversation gotten to this point? But then she gathered herself together. "Mr. Stark. Is this a bribe?"

"No. Would you be susceptible to bribes? No. This is job security. Okay, what else is holding you back?" But before she had time to answer, he continued. "You mean all this time I could have _bribed_ you into my clutches? Pepper Potts, you hedonist, you."

She was backing up and he was rising out of his chair, slowly approaching. "I, no, of course, I mean, no you couldn't bribe me, and I'm not a hedonist, I don't think."

"We can work on that," he murmured, grabbing one edge of the clipboard and using it to pull her closer to him without actually touching her.

They were the perfect height, standing. She lost herself in her eyes as he came closer and closer until they were almost breathing the same air.

His voice was a soft velvet whisper. "I want your revised employment contract on my desk in two hours, with changes to reflect my decision, ready to be signed. We can go over the DOD report at that time."

"Yes, sir," she breathed.

"Pepper," he said, raising a hand and letting one fingertip tenderly trace a short path of her cheekbone. "Don't call me 'sir' again. You assist me. My company employs you. But I am not your superior, and you are in no way inferior."

She swallowed harshly and tried not to stare at his lips, soft, full, adorable. She tried not to think about his body, so close to her, radiating heat and power. She swallowed again.

"Will that be all for now, Mr. Stark?"

"Unless you have something you'd like to add, Miss Potts. No? Then I suppose that's all. For now."

He turned back to his desk as she turned to the office door, trying not to misstep and stumble.

"See you in two, Pepper," was his parting shot.


	6. I'm Working On It: The flirty engineer

Tony Stark was never accused of being a good boy, but he had recently had a conversation with Rhodey and had his worst suspicions confirmed. What women generally want – says Col. Rhodes - is patience, tenderness, communication, emotional connection, a sense of security, and wild crazy monkey sex. And they want it in _exactly_ that order.

Tony balked at this, as he had experience with something like 200 different women, and not a single one of them had wanted anything but attention before the wild crazy monkey sex part, and none of them had wanted anything afterwards, at least that he'd noticed.

Col. Rhodes then had the temerity to point out just how contented any one of those individual 200 plus ladies hadn't made him. And now that Tony seemed, _seemed_ stressed Col. Rhodes, to be pursuing one woman in particular – did he really want to fuck it up? It was a point which Tony did grudgingly cede. But it got Tony thinking.

He'd been patient. He'd also been explicit in his intentions. He'd been tender. He'd also been demanding and occasionally petulant. If he and Pepper _didn't_ have an emotional connection, he wasn't sure he was capable of one, so that had to count. And last month he'd secured her financial future. So, all things considered, it must have been time for the monkey sex. And yet…

She shied away from his flirting with a little smile and a redirection of the conversation. The moments when they were physically close together were entirely too short, and while he thoroughly enjoyed their time together, she refused to be seen socially with him.

But Tony Stark was not a blind man. It wasn't that she wasn't attracted, and it wasn't that she didn't care. Possibly, it just wasn't the right time yet. Possibly he was still too close to his playboy past for her comfort – understandable, he supposed. Possibly she just needed time for reasons unknown to him, but until his meeting with the engineers in section 6, he'd never thought it possible that she might be seeing someone else.

She didn't always attend such meetings, but occasionally it happened, and today at the end of just such a meeting she indicated her intention to linger and he nodded to show that he would wait for her outside, idly wondering the reason, but fully trusting that it was a good one. He strolled out of the workspace at a leisurely gait. He had only just turned the corner when something caught his eye. He picked up the piece of machinery and started to fiddle with it, tweaking it before setting it back down again. He'd have to have Pepper send a memo of his changes later on, so the engineers and techs wouldn't think that the problem had miraculously solved itself.

Tony smiled a little at the image – every engineer occasionally just wished a miracle would occur and fix the bugs they didn't understand – but quickly the small smile was wiped off his face as he overheard a conversation not meant for his ears.

"Geez, Pepper, I thought I'd never get you out of the clutches of Mr. Stark, evil genius." The voice was laughing and low, and he couldn't quite place a name to it.

"James," Pepper said admonishingly, but with laughter in her voice, too.

"No, I'm sorry. Outta line. Let me buy you dinner to make up for it. Same place we went to last time?"

 _James Deventhal_ , Tony thought. _James Deventhal is flirting with my Pepper, and I'm going to fire him. I'm going to fire him, because Pepper wouldn't understand if I killed him._

"A simple apology will do just fine, James. You know I think very highly of Mr. Stark." It was her voice of polite refusal. With this, Tony was well pleased.

"Didn't you like the restaurant we went to last time?"

 _She's been out with him before?_ Tony saw red.

"It was lovely, as I told you. Things are just very busy for me right now."

"Yeah," he heard James say ruefully. "Must be crazy to be a superhero's right hand, huh? Can't imagine what he asks of you _now."_

"Mr. Deventhal, what I do or don't do with Mr. Stark is frankly none of your business, and if you must speculate about it, I wish you wouldn't do so in front of me. Have a nice day."

Tony clenched and unclenched his jaw, but was slightly unprepared for the look of outrage that accompanied the click of her heels against the cement floor of the shop as she rounded the corner. If he thought she could get no more upset, however, he was wrong.

Her eyes were full of anger and a single finger came up, forbidding him from saying anything at all. Nothing was said, in fact, until they got to the car. Happy was waiting for them, but Tony waved him off and he was back in the driver's seat with the door closed before it began.

"Pepper…"

"No! Not one word. You don't get to comment on one word of what you heard because you had no right to hear it. I cannot _believe_ that you were eavesdropping, Tony! Have you no shame _at all?"_ He had one hand extended to open the car door, but when she started talking, he'd ended up back up against the car, with her pointing a finger into his chest.

"No," he answered quietly.

"No? What do you mean, no?" It brought her up short, and she stopped poking him, but she hadn't moved away at all.

"No. I don't have any shame. Or, not much. At least, not about this. Actually, I've got quite a lot of shame about some things we won't go into right now. They mostly have to do with bombshells – both the female and munitions varieties. But when it comes to you? No, Pepper. I have no shame. And whether you want to hear it or not, you'll have to send a memo to the engineers to tell them about the modifications I was doing at that workstation around the corner. Which is why I paused there. Not because I don't trust you.

"And as for Dipshit," he started again, but was interrupted.

"James," she corrected.

"Dipshit," he affirmed, before continuing on. "Are you dating him?"

There was quite a pause before she continued. She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head back, giving him a good hard stare. There was the same level of excitement and apprehension in his gut as when he faced down Obi on the roof of the arc reactor complex, not certain of the outcome, but not daring to be elsewhere.

"No."

"Are you dating anyone?"

"Well," she began, and his gut clenched. "There is one guy. The tallies in the for and against columns are pretty even for him, but I'm thinking about it."

 _Please let it be me,_ he thought. "And? What do you think would push you over the edge in his favor?"

"That's classified information. I'm sorry, but your security clearance just isn't high enough, Mr. Stark."

 _Oh my God, what if it isn't me?_ "Could I put in a request for a clearance upgrade?"

"Could take time," she said, and this was just the point where his precarious perch mostly on one foot, but leaning against the Bentley slipped somewhat. Now his legs were wide apart, he really was leaning on the car for much of his support, and she had several inches of height on him. And this was the point that she took one step in, and her outer thigh brushed against his inner thigh. The fact that they were fully clothed seemed to make no difference to his libido.

"I could have a word with the person in charge. Speed up the process, maybe."

"Mmm," she murmured, drawing in a little bit closer to him. "Maybe. I've heard she likes you."

Their lips were so close.

"Yeah?" he breathed out softly. "It'll suck to disappoint her, but I've only got eyes for you." And at that point Tony leaned ever so slightly up and caught her lips. It was a gentle kiss, and his heart, which had taken up residence in his throat, seemed to come back down to join the arc reactor in his chest.

The first kiss was gentle, the second lingering, and the third searing. When his lips left a little trail of kisses down her neck, while her nails scratched at the nape of his neck, while his hands smoothed down the invisible wrinkles at the back of her skirt, she spoke, finally, her voice soft and full of breath.

"I think. Maybe. We should get… in the car."

This was also the point that Tony realized, his hands on her rear, exactly what sort of undergarment she was wearing. The realization floored him and said awakening libido spiked to attention.

"You're wearing the garter belt I bought you," he said, not realizing how low and gravelly his voice had become through the haze of sensation.

Her eyebrow quirked upwards, even as he hauled her closer so their hips were sealed together.

"I had no idea it would have this effect on you," she said, her hand coming around so a fingernail could scratch at the corner of his beard.

He turned his head slightly to nip at the finger so close to his mouth, then once he had it, suckled it for a moment. He watched her as he laved her finger with his tongue. He watched her eyes glaze over. Then he pulled back and nuzzled into her hand.

"Yeah," he said with a nonchalance he didn't actually feel. "We should get in the car."

And without letting go of her, he moved them away from the car door so he could open it, then ushered her in. When they were both seated with the door shut again, he spoke to the chauffeur.

"Take us home, Happy."

As the car started to roll gently away from the door of the R&D3 building, Tony tugged on her arm, trying to persuade her to remain within kissing distance, but she was resisting. She directed a significant glance to the front seat, and Tony rolled his eyes.

"Hey, Happy. Is it going to weird you out if Pepper and I snuggle back here?" He turned to look at her, and without pause, continued on, "Because we're an item now."

"Not at all, Mr. Stark."

"Excellent. On to Malibu, then. And if any blonde bombshells try to waylay us, feel free to run them over." And then she shifted over, still blushing. And then Tony kissed the blush right out of her.

"Gotcha, Mr. Stark."


	7. Work in Progress: The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lifer is a work in progress for Tony Stark. But it's only since he's turned over a new leaf that he's really understood that.

Tony Stark woke up feeling calmer and more content than he had since coming back from Afghanistan eight months prior. Not that he was thinking this as he woke up on that beautiful Saturday morning. There was no thought involved at all, which was part of the beauty. It was just a feeling, a sensation of peace, like the sensation of limbs moving along high-count cotton sheets, as soft as a dream. Still somewhere between sleep and awake, said moving limbs encountered a distinct lack of any other body in the bed. This awareness proceeded to kick Tony firmly out of the land of sleep and into the waking world.

"Shades," he murmured before clearing his throat. Before his throat had cleared, Jarvis had cleared the Inteliglass windows and the room brightened slightly.

Rubbing his fingertips over his eyes and moving down to scratch at his growth of beard, he quietly spoke to his butler. "Jarvis, where's Pepper?"

"She is in your bathroom, sir," Jarvis replied just as softly.

He grunted and sat up, running a hand through his shock of black hair. "What time is it?"

"Five twenty-three."

Tony sighed in disbelief. "Huh. Slept in." When he heard the sink turn on from the master bath, he smiled and slid out of bed. Walking past randomly dropped articles of clothing he didn't bother to put any of them on. It wasn't that he was an exhibitionist, but it was his home, and the only ones around were his girlfriend and his AI butler. And besides, he didn't expect his girlfriend to be dressed, either.

His shock was imaginable then, when he opened the bathroom door and found her, in fact, mostly dressed and brushing her teeth. Her hair was still delightfully mused, however, and she hadn't taken a bath.

"Hey, no fair," he said, wrapping his hands around her middle and stepping up to her so he could be as close as her clothes would allow. He wondered if she was trying to avoid a difficult morning scene. He wondered if she thought he'd treat her like the other ones.

Tony didn't meet her eyes, after that first moment of opening the door. Instead, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and kissed and licked the little mark he'd left there the night before.

"Do you have plans for today?" he murmured, working his way up to her ear.

"I was going to work some," she said around the toothpaste in her mouth. "Clean my house. Have lunch with my sister. Why?"

"Oh, I thought we might have a leisurely morning," he said, and nibbled her ear for good effect. The effect was ruined, however, when she bent over to spit out the toothpaste and rinse her mouth out. Tony, never one to be daunted, took the opportunity to massage her skirt-clad hip with one hand and move her long hair out of her way with the other.

"That would be new for you," she remarked dryly, now completely vertical once more.

"This is all new for me, Pepper," he said, staring into her eyes through the mirror, and wrapping his arms around her center once more, hugging her to him tightly. He'd forgotten how much shorter than him she was without heels. He had a solid four inches on her.

There was the space of a heartbeat before she answered, and in the stillness of the small tiled room it seemed like a rather long time. "That was unfair of me. I'm sorry."

"You can make it up to me, you know," he said, nuzzling back into her hair, loving the smell of it, of her, of the two of them together.

"On my back, I suppose."

Fingers twitched at her sides, and behold, Tony found that Pepper was quite ticklish.

"Invite me to lunch with your sister," he said softly, once his fingers stopped moving, once she could breathe again for laughter.

Her features asked the question for her.

"I want to meet your family."

If her expression was anything to go by, this request stunned her. Tony wasn't sure why it should. Wasn't this normal dating behavior? And besides anything someone else deemed normal, he _wanted_ to.

"Besides. We need to pick up your stuff."

"My stuff?"

"Yeah. You know. Stuff. Clothes, shoes, laptop, stuff. Your stuff. From your apartment. Stuff?"

At this she turned around, but just a tad to fast and managed to sideswipe his most delicate piece of equipment. He groaned heavily, but she didn't seem to notice. Still, his arms were around her, and hers rested on his bare chest.

"I don't see why I would need to pick up anything to bring over here. I'm not moving in with you, Tony Stark," she said, tapping her finger against the arc reactor in his chest, the ting-ting-ting of her fingernail against it echoing in the room.

"No?" he said, attempting to be charming.

"No."

"But what about days like this? I mean, you know, one thing leads to another, you spend the night – which you are always, always welcome to do –" at this he commenced kissing her neck again. "And sure, we both wake up at 5, but do you really want to have to drive all the way out to L.A. face the traffic, just to put on a fresh suit and some perfume? Think of the greenhouse emissions."

She snorted. "It's not that simple, Tony. My wardrobe isn't so large that I can just keep part of it over here."

"Clearly we need to go shopping before lunch with your sister."

"You have an answer to everything, don't you?" At this, he started in on the buttons to yesterday's blouse.

"Nine years later you're just figuring this out?"

She narrowed her eyes as he smoothed the blouse off her shoulders and let it fall onto the bathroom counter. "Fine. Shopping, then lunch, then you drop me at my apartment. There are still things that I want to do this afternoon."

"Yeah?" he asked, unzipping her pencil skirt and letting it fall. He walked backwards with her, still holding on tight, kissing her shoulder, as they went back into the bedroom. "Like what? Come on, you know my schedule. What's yours look like?"

"Work. Cleaning. Yoga class."

"Yoga?" he asked with a lascivious grin. "You mean, you can twist yourself into a pretzel? That must come in handy."

"I think it will, with you."

"Then by all means. Shops don't open for another three hours. I think you should probably practice your yoga on me." Slowly, small step by step, they made their way across the large room.

"At some point I'm going to need coffee, Tony."

"Yes, yes, pencil that in for right after our shower."

And as they both fell back into bed with the sun slowly lightening the western sky, the laughter of Pepper Potts lightened his heart.


	8. Work In Progress: Saturday Shopping

Pepper Potts was a practical woman. She had learned early on that things like tradition and typical expectations could not just be taken for granted. 'Yes, but is it helpful?' was always the question her mind would put forth when faced with a situation that presented the traditional response to a question or problem. 'Could it be done a different way?' was always the next question on the docket. This way of looking at life made her excellent at her job, and was perhaps the one thing that allowed her to be occasionally two steps ahead of her boss. She enjoyed the unpredictability of her employer, and she enjoyed bringing order to the chaos that his genius created.

Her family recognized this streak of practicality in their oldest daughter, but marveled that it only extended so far into her personal life. When, they wondered, was she going to get serious about one of her boyfriends? She had always said that family mattered to her, so when was she going to start one of her own? Four weeks away from being thirty brought questions from her family that she normally didn't have to field at all.

But four weeks away from being thirty just happened to be a rather tumultuous time in Pepper's life. Actually, the entire twenty-ninth year was tumultuous, starting from day one, when her boss (whom she adored like one might adore a little brother, to say nothing that he was three years older) went missing in a war zone and was suspected of having died. Three months later she'd figured out that she'd actually loved him, regardless of the fact that he used women like Kleenex, drank entirely too much, spent his time making weapons of mass destruction, and failed to take anything in life seriously. Coincidentally, three months later, she also received a call from his best friend explaining that he'd been found – he had escaped, and been found, and they'd be arriving in two days at 3 in the afternoon, and would she make sure to be there?

Two days seemed like forever, and Pepper had several moments of seriously wondering if she should seek another position. It would be hard to work around him now, now that she had begun to realize how much he meant to her. More specifically, it would be wonderful to work with him, but hard to bear his darker side that she had managed so seamlessly before.

In the end, standing on the tarmac, watching him get up from the wheelchair with such stiffness and hidden pain, she was glad she'd made the decision she had. After all, she thought, _it would be unbearable if he treated me like all the rest, but he stopped flirting with me eight years ago._

But that moment was many moons ago. Four weeks away from being thirty was a different place in Pepper's life. It seemed she was finally getting serious with one of her boyfriends. Granted, they'd only just decided to date, but they'd been flirting on and off for the last eight months, and worked closely with each other for the last nine years. As a matter of fact, Pepper felt better in this relationship, instantly, right now, to a ridiculous degree in comparison to the other men she'd dated. And she'd dated plenty.

Practical as Pepper was, she would have never dreamed of dating this one, him, _Tony_ , even knowing her heart as she did now, had it not been for the revolution in his character. Oh, that which made him Tony was still there, but someone had lit a candle in the midst of his dark side and he seemed to be cleaning house, slowly but surely. Eight months down, and the press wouldn't be able to recognize him, if they bothered to take a closer look, which thankfully they never did.

Eight months down, and he was shopping with her again. Shopping, and apparently he was buying her an entire second wardrobe – much nicer than her first one, save the three apology suits. Suits, some casual clothes, several evening gowns of varying degrees of formality, more shoes, and an absolute pile of lingerie.

"Where exactly are we putting this stuff?" The last time they'd made a trip back to the car, the trunk of the Bentley had been looking a bit on the full side. Not that she was complaining. Pepper was too practical for that rather large waste of energy, and it just wasn't something she ever indulged in. Come to think of it, neither did Tony. They both had better things to do. Better to solve the problem than whine about it.

"In a closet. You know. Clothes. Closet. Just a thought," he said.

"Well, not your closet," she remarked. "It's full. One of the guest rooms?"

"No. You're not a guest in my house. You belong there. But you're right. My closet is full. Remind me to call the architect in the morning. It's time I had more storage space."

"Tomorrow is Sunday, Tony."

"Fine. Monday. Whatever." He shifted his bags all to one hand so when the stepped off the curb to cross the street, he had one hand on the small of her back, walking closely to her in the light crowds of late Saturday morning.

"This doesn't mean I'm moving in," she said, looking up at him.

"No, of course not, love."

"Don't patronize me. I'm serious, Tony."

"And I'm serious, Pepper. You're not moving in with me until you're good and ready. Fine. I accept that. And I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that you can be good and ready as soon as possible."

 _He's making room in his life for you, silly!_ Pepper smiled and felt her whole body relax. She hadn't realized how uptight the entire situation was making her feel. She stopped on the sidewalk of Rodeo Drive, half way to where Happy had parked illegally, and with her hands full of bags and packages she turned and kissed him full on the lips. It was quite a torrid kiss, and it went completely unnoticed by either of them that a photographer was clicking away until it came to an end.

"Hey, Iron Man! Smile for the camera!"

Tony flipped him off instead and shepherded her back to the car with an arm around her waist.

"That will make front page of some tabloid or other, tomorrow."

"Does it bother you?" he murmured, completely at ease.

She thought about it for a moment. "No, not really. Well, a bit. I mean, I definitely have to call my mother this evening. I'd like her to find out we're dating before she hits the check-out aisle. And then there's work." At his look, she clarified. "I don't mean job security. I mean respect. Before me you had, what, twelve assistants in three years. People aren't aware that you've changed so profoundly, Tony. They're going to think that I'm just another notch on your bedpost, and they're going to treat me that way."

"And you and I know what complete and utter bullshit that is, because I for one don't have a bedpost. I don't even have a metaphorical one anymore."

She nodded. "I know," she said earnestly.

He turned his head to meet her eyes briefly as they were walking. "And I can't be anything other than who I am. And who I've been is part of that. A part of me wishes I could spare you, but I can't. I'm sorry.

"You're a good person, Pepper. You're an excellent person, and I suspect you're far more than I deserve. However, I _am_ a selfish bastard, and if you're willing to give me a shot, I'm not going to argue."

She turned to him as they had reached the car, and with Happy waiting at the open trunk she gave him a sweet and soft kiss on the lips. Turning away, she put her bags in first, and then he his before Happy closed the trunk for them. He adjusted his glasses – they were pink tinted today, and Pepper liked to consider them his rose colored glasses. It amused her to do so, because while most people looked at the world _through_ rose colored glasses, but didn't actually own a pair, the situation was reverse for Tony Stark.

It was just one of many things about him that she admired.


	9. Work in Progress: Rearranging Lunch

Ann Jarvey looked at her cell phone as it rang an upbeat tune. Her sister Ginny was calling, and it was nine in the morning. This probably meant that she would be canceling their lunch together. So it goes when your sister is the assistant to a Fortune 500 CEO – far worse than when she worked for the governor, right out of school. It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last, but Ann didn't begrudge it. Family _was_ important to Ginny, and she was just as likely to stop by unexpectedly and hang out in some downtime as she was to make or miss a scheduled date. It all sort of evened out, in the end.

"Hey doll, something come up?" Ann said, immediately upon opening her flip phone.

"Um, actually, yes."

"So, when do you want to reschedule?"

"No, um. Not like that, I mean… I, uh…"

Ann silently smirked at her older sisters tied tongue. This only happened when she was really, really uncomfortable. Ann wondered what was going on, but knew better than to ask about it when on the phone – one never knew who was in the room with Ginny as she was talking. One day Ann had called and Pepper had been talking to Bono only moments before…

"I, um…"

And then Ann heard the oddest and most interesting thing. A voice probably near by to Ginny's phone, but not holding it and speaking into directly, starting half talking, half hollering into the handset.

"What Pepper is trying to say, is that she'd like to invite her new boyfriend to lunch with you. Is that cool?"

Ann chortled with glee. No wonder Ginny was acting funny. "Of course," she responded. "I'd be delighted. And, do I know this boyfriend? Do we have a name, at least?"

"Tony," Ginny responded.

"Tony? Just _Tony_? The artist formerly known as Tony, with no last name?"

"Stark. Tony Stark," Ginny replied tightly.

Ann was silent for a moment as this began to sink in, as her eyes slowly widened, until she couldn't hold it in anymore. She threw her head back and absolutely crowed with laughter. Her husband walked in and quirked an eyebrow to see his wife cracking up over the oat bran and granola, but when he noticed the phone in her hand, he just waited for the explanation.

"Ginny, she… she," gasping for air, Ann held the phone loosely away from her face so as not to laugh _directly_ into the receiver. "She's finally dating her boss!"

"It's about _time_ ," he replied loudly, knowing his voice would carry into the phone. "It's only been, what, a year since she'd decided to take a baseball bat to all his other girlfriends?"

Ann gave her husband a silent look that was one part shock and one part wonderment at his sneakiness. They deeply suspected that said boss was now listening into the conversation.

She turned back to the phone. "Still there?"

"Yes," came the terse reply.

"See you two at one then?"

"Yes, Annie, we'll see you then."

She closed her phone and picked up her coffee cup, but then just held it in her hands for the longest moment.

"What are you thinking?" her husband asked, slipping into a chair and helping himself to her orange juice.

"She's mentioned that he'd changed quite a bit since he got back. I just wonder how much is much, you know?"

He stroked her cheek for a moment before dropping his hand to the table. "You can't live her life for her, Annie."

She grinned. "I know. She's more than capable of living it herself. I just hope if she can't be happy with him, she moves on quickly. I'd hate to see this rip her apart, you know?"

Her husband nodded, then padded over to pour himself some coffee and toast a bagel.

"On the other hand, if he's changed as much as she's said, and it, you know, _sticks_ … He'll make one hell of an interesting boyfriend. Or husband, if it comes to that."

"He'll keep her on her toes, that's to be certain."

"She traded a playboy for a superhero. I'm sure she traded up, but only slightly," Ann pointed out.

"Give it time. He could turn out to be a good one. Not like that giant green Dr. Jekyll terrorizing New York City."

"Is he in New York? I thought he was in Chicago."

"Same difference. So far Mr. Stark is only blowing up his own weapons. Could be worse. I'm sure if a screw comes loose, the first one to know will be our Ginny."

"True, my dear. True. Well, I'll tell you all about lunch when I get back."

"Have fun. I've heard he's charming, when he wants to be."

"Yes, dear. I've heard the same thing. In fact, I'm sure I was sitting next to you at the time…"


	10. Work in Progress: Concerning Baseball Bats

Tony Stark was generally considered (by anyone whose opinion counted) the model of the evolved male of the species. He was wildly brilliant, incredibly successful at whatever he chose to do, he was unbelievably affluent, he had a personal charisma that inspired others to go beyond what they'd previously imagined possible, and a magnetic draw that left members of the appropriate sex begging in his wake. While some believed that this was in fact, a mutant ability (and one, it should be mentioned that others desperately wanted as well, genome research being what it was), all respectable pundits did still consider him Homo sapiens sapiens, not Homo sapiens exultet.

Just at the moment, Tony felt like Homo sapiens idaltu, or perhaps even Homo neanderthalensis. He blamed it on his hindbrain – that reptilian bit that stored all the good instincts, like feasting and fucking and running the hell away.

The reason for his descent into the more Cro-Magnon spheres of his being could be attributed to a conversation that he had just lately overheard involving images of the apple of his eye and a baseball bat. There was something, some almost ineffable feeling that curled from the base of his neck to his gut that just yelled _**'MINE**_ **'** in the most primitive and guttural way, and this feeling momentarily overwhelmed him when he first overhead the above mentioned conversation.

It wasn't a rational thing. Rationally, he'd want to tease her, or find out more, or ask about the highly intriguing timeline that was mentioned. Rationally, he might be saddened that his past was destined to haunt him for some time, or he might be considering different angles with which to woo the family and loved ones of his dear, sweet, seemingly non-violent Pepper. Rationally, he had several different options and the freedom to choose his response.

Irrationally, there was a part of him that just wanted to mount her, right there in the back of the Bentley. For a very brief moment – the span of, say, three heartbeats – that _part_ of him consisted of his entire being.

Three seconds later he still remained in his position and the phone conversation continued on, without interruption until its end. The moment the electronic beep signaled that she had indeed hung up, the words were out of his mouth before thinking, and the H. sapiens in him had taken over again.

"Baseball bat, huh? Sounds pretty extreme. And a little vulgar," he said with a small but growing smile on his face. It was a small smile that was quickly turning lecherous. "I'm okay with it, though."

Pepper sighed and stared straight ahead at the front seat. "Those were not my exact words," she bit out tersely.

Tony smiled widely before wiping the expression off his face, lest she glance over and think he was mocking her – unduly.

"What were your exact words, Miss Potts?" His voice was low and intimate and he was leaning over in his seat towards her, just slightly.

"I don't immediately recall." She was still sitting stiffly and exactly upright, clutching her phone in her hand.

"I see. Well, exactitude aside, I get your gist. Let's discuss timeline. A year ago would put us…" he trailed off to consider it, but was cut off by her soft voice immediately breaking through his thoughts.

"It wasn't a year ago."

"I'm listening." Oh, and he was. Listening, intrigued, and every molecule focused at attention, he was fully willing to soak up whatever she had to say.

"It was..." she trailed off momentarily, for drama or calculation Tony couldn't tell. "Ten months ago. More or less."

His brain did the calculations quickly. Ten months ago was February. From mid-December to mid-March he'd been in Afghanistan, building the Mark I, among other things. His stomach dropped. This was not a conversation he was prepared to have right now. "I was away then," he said vaguely.

"Yes," she said, turning to look at him for the first time since her sister had started laughing, which he had heard with crystal clarity over the phone. "You were." She reached over and gently took his hand in hers, but said no more, and looked out the window at the passing scenery.

Long moments passed before the silence was broken.

"Ten months. _Ten months?_ Ten months, most of which I was present, accounted for, perfectly charming and totally attentive. Ten months and only _now_ are we dating?" The incredulous tone was utterly genuine.

She looked over at him and gave a little squeeze of his hand as she fought to hide a smile. She shrugged.

"Not good enough."

She rolled her eyes. "What do you want me to say, Tony?"

"The truth."

"The truth? I had to know who you were."

"Who I am? Pepper, for God's sake, we've been working together for nine years. You may be the only one in this world who really _does_ know me."

"And that's how I was able to recognize that you came back from Afghanistan a different man that's got nothing to do with post traumatic stress or momentary bouts of corporate insanity. I needed to know who you were now."

He swallowed past the lump in his throat and tried not to think about what it meant. "And, what if I hadn't come back changed?" He caught her eyes and tried not to drown.

She smiled a sad and painful looking smile. "I probably would have quit."

His stomach dropped again. God, this was a hellish ride into town. "I thought you hated job hunting," he said, his voice somewhat gravelly.

"It would have been less painful than the alternative." He held up the her hand, clasped in his and pressed his lips to the backs of her fingers for a moment. He then shifted her hand into his other one, and slid over closer to her, wrapping his now free arm around her shoulders and bringing her closer. He took a deep breath and kissed the side of her head, just above her ear.

They sat in silence for a moment, and for a very brief moment, he allowed himself to really feel the pain of that alternate reality that was, thankfully, closed to him now. He didn't let his mind stray back to the cave, but stayed present with her, in the car, just in that moment. Breathing in the smell of her, feeling her shoulders, her warm hand in his, all these things helped to ground him just in that moment, and it did successfully keep him from the cave.

After a moment he piped up, his usual humor coming to the fore again. "What about the baseball bat?" he asked, in a mock-wounded fashion.

"Well, maybe one for the road. I still find that Vanity Fair reporter rather annoying. But generally I'll leave the assault charges to you. You seem to be so good at gathering them up." The finger tips of both hands were drawing little patterns on his palm and the back of his hand. She looked over at him, and he was struck for the first time at how much his happiness depended on her.

"Hey, none of those have ever stuck," he pointed out softly, feeling like he was drowning in her eyes and sinking closer and closer to sweet oblivion.

"And that is because you have two judges in your pocket, in case of emergency." Her smile challenged him to argue, but he gave up his reputation of having an answer for everything and decided instead to kiss her.


	11. Work in Progress: An unexpected question

One of the aspects of the practicality of Pepper Potts was her ability to observe, draw conclusions, and then dismiss all that seemed ancillary, thus freeing her to focus on what mattered most. It was one part the ability to concentrate, and one part sensory triage. And it worked, most of the time.

It worked most of the time, except for today.

The informal café was one of her sister's favorite places, and they didn't take reservations, but one of the things that her sister liked most about it – besides the food, which was tasty, and the owner's comfort level with patrons lingering over coffee for as long as they liked – was the eclectic music. Just as they had walked in, there seemed to be an indie steel-string guitar version of AC/DC's "Back in Black", and now there was a very feisty version of Beethoven's Presto movement of the Moonlight Sonata. It was stormy and strong, something that could overpower the senses if you allowed it.

It fit her frame of mind just perfectly, and so she was having a hard time concentrating on other things. Like her date. Or finding her sister.

He had his hand at the small of her back – he seemed to be putting it there quite often, and Pepper had to admit that she was getting used to it – but just now slid it over to hold her waist as he leaned over to her ear, a simple shift due to their same height. "There's a woman waving and looking significantly at us. Could that be your sister?"

Pepper snapped out of it and shook herself slightly before looking over and seeing Ann smirk at her. Pepper walked forward, smiling and waving off the seating hostess, but as soon as she walked away, Tony's hand disappeared from her person, leaving feeling bereft. She glanced back and gave him a small smile, catching up his now free hand in hers. His hand was incredibly warm.

She felt her body release a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and she took a deep breath as she weaved her way to the side where her sister was beginning to stand up, the better to properly greet them.

"Ginny! I'm glad you didn't have to cancel after all," her sister said, holding her in a quick one arm hug with a peck on the cheek. "And this must be Tony," she said with a genuine smile.

Pepper's heart descended back to where it was supposed to be, vacating her throat. It seemed that Ann had decided to behave herself and be hospitable. Ann was a good person through and through, but she could be a pip, and thus, deeply annoying, when the mood struck her.

"Yes, Ann, this is Tony. Tony, my youngest sister, Ann Jarvey." She did the introductions as Tony shook her hand and they got themselves seated.

"Does she cancel often?" was Tony's lazy question – lazy, but Pepper knew better. What was he up to? Was he checking up on her? He was, dammit.

Ann, god bless her, just shrugged and pointed out that she didn't keep a tally. It was at that point that the waitress had caught up with them, handed out menus and received drink orders.

"So, Ginny's told us a lot about you."

With most people, this would be a completely innocuous opening gambit.

Pepper watched as Tony smiled and turned on the charisma. He quirked an eyebrow and a grin over at her before answering her sister. "It's all true."

Pepper paled as she glanced over at Ann's mischievous expression.

"You don't know what she's told us."

Tony smirked and accepted his orange juice with grace from the waitress who was giving him the look that came just before recognition hit. "No, but I can imagine. If it's damning, it's true. If it's glowing, it's true."

"And what if it was just mediocre and somewhat run-of-the-mill?"

"No, that's not true," he said immediately before turning to her. "Mediocre? _Mediocre?_ Pepper. When have I ever done things by halves?"

The butterflies finally escaped when she was on the receiving end of his incredulous glare. She tried to smother a smile, but was largely unsuccessful. "Never, Mr. Stark," she responded softly, in her lowest register.

"That's right, Miss Potts," he said, picking up her hand from the table, turning it over and pressing a kiss into her open palm. "And let's not forget it."

A snorted chuckle eventually brought them back to the task at hand: choosing lunch. Pepper could breathe normally after that, though. The worst had past, and the rest of lunch was the right mixture of charming, relaxing, and humorous. Tony now officially had blackmail material on her.

And then the coffee came.

"What about next weekend? The weather is supposed to be nice, and Sev can put some steaks on the grill. Anything you hate eating, Tony?"

"I eat anything," he deadpanned, but her sister just kept going.

"I don't know if that's a good time, but I need to check the schedule. I'll call you later," Pepper told her sister.

Tony leaned back and with one hand cradling a coffee cup and the other on her thigh, under the table, he remarked, "You got a hot date next weekend, Potts?"

She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. She wanted to be able to give him an out, just in case he didn't want to actually have a family barbeque at her sister's house, but she didn't respond in addition to this because she couldn't perfectly remember his schedule, and hadn't brought it with her.

"No, but I think you're due to be in New York." She did, actually. She was almost positive.

"Really? Cancel it. Or reschedule. What was it?"

"An art opening."

"Definitely cancel it. This is more important."

Ann was just stirring the cream and sugar into her coffee when Pepper decided that she should have been an only child.

"So, you're dating now, and you work together, and one of you is the newest superhero on the block. Are you going to move in with him? Because you know that's going to freak out Mom." At Pepper's absolutely mortified glare, Ann shrugged. "You know Mom is going to grill you, and possibly you too," she nodded to Tony, "and so I thought I'd just get you ready for her inevitable questions about your intentions."

Pepper closed her eyes and wished herself away.

Tony chuckled and moved his hand from her thigh, picking up her hand instead. He kissed her knuckles and laughed longer when she steadfastly refused to look at him, but continued on with her eyes shut.

"I assure you and your entire family that my intentions are entirely honorable." At this, Pepper cracked one eye open and gave him a sidelong glance. His features were light, and once again he didn't look quite as old as he usually did. He looked a bit closer to his 33 years. He squeezed her hand and gave her a look that seemed to silently ask her full attention. She gave it to him.

"If I thought I'd have half a chance of her saying yes, I'd ask her right now to marry me." He looked deeply into her eyes, and all trace of humor was gone from his face, though it was still soft and open. "But she won't even move in with me."

Pepper blinked as her jaw gaped slightly. "Are you serious?" she whispered even as her brain was whizzing at light speed. The practical side of her was doing some quick calculations.

Marriage is respectable. Marriage to a coworker is respectable. Marriage is a legal and binding contract, and in case he got in trouble or injured due to his extra-curricular activities, which was _entirely_ possible, she would have many more rights than she would now, among them being able to plead the Fifth Amendment.

Dating can go either way. Dating your boss is seedy and sordid, no matter who discusses it on FOX News or at the water cooler.

And then of course, there were her feelings: she adored him.

"Yes. Serious. Completely serious. Do I take, from your expression that I might have half a chance of you saying yes to that sort of query?"

She swallowed past the lump in her throat, but when she couldn't quite form words, she nodded instead.

She watched as he put down his coffee cup, slipped his chair back at an angle to avoid the other patrons and sank down onto one knee. There was a lump in her throat again.

He kissed her hand that he still held, and rubbed his fingers across her knuckles.

"Virginia Potts," he started, slowly and softly, as if savoring her name. "Will you make me the happiest man in the world? Will you marry me?"

And then everything clicked into a perfect state of clarity.

"Yes," she whispered. " _Yes_ ," she said again, stronger this time, and leaned over and down to kiss him thoroughly. They were interrupted by the applause and cheering that broke out across the café. They ignored the whispers that speculated on the possibility of him being Iron Man.


	12. So Far, So Good: Two Months Salary

After lunch with her sister, they had made a hastily planned stop at his favorite jewelers, and to their credit, the owner who came out to help Mr. Stark personally did not so much as flinch when Tony pointed out what they were specifically looking for. They decided on a platinum band, a simple setting, and had her finger measured, and his for the record as well, but that was the easy part.

"Tony, that's huge. I can't possibly wear that on my finger."

"You don't like it?"

"I like it just fine, but it's too big."

"What about the cut? Marquise, Pear, or Round Brilliant, a traditional diamond for a traditional girl?"

She grinned and snuggled closer to his side. "You know me, traditional."

"And you know me, untraditional."

"Which is why the metal will be platinum. Non-traditional."

"Could go with a gold titanium alloy."

"Well save that for the wedding bands, I think."

"Yeah?"

"Why not?"

"With a little hot rod red in there?"

Pepper gave him an assessing sideways glance. "We'll see."

"What about this one?"

"That's not too bad. You don't think it's a bit on the big side?"

"Nope."

"Well, no, of course _you_ wouldn't."

"What about this one?"

"Tony, that one's even bigger."

"I know. And I like it even better."

"What about this one?"

"Pep, that's _tiny_."

"It's _intimate._ "

"I'm not buying you an intimate diamond, my darling one. I'm buying you a _rock._ You'll be able to signal satellites with its brilliance. Or me, for that matter."

Her eyes narrowed. "And everyone who sees it will have no doubt to whom I belong, is that it?"

"Exactly."

"Absolutely not."

He sighed. "Look. Two month's salary, right? I mean, that's the industry standard. Which is moot in my case. The sky's the limit, we'll get whatever you want. But I draw the line at purchasing a diamond you can barely see. I won't do it."

She sighed and pointed at a 6 carat diamond cut in the Round Brilliance style.

"Go look at earrings and we'll be ready to go in just a minute."

She'd rolled her eyes at him. Tony could only imagine what was going through her head, and actually he had a pretty good idea, but he still wanted to make these arrangements out of earshot of her. He arranged payment, and asked if it could, possibly be ready in five hours. They said they'd have it for him in four.

It wasn't long after that he walked her to the door of her apartment. She'd introduced him to the concierge and gave permission for him to enter and proceed upstairs without her tacit approval each visit. They took the elevator up to the ninth floor and the entire, slow ride he stood behind her and off to the left just slightly, his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder, his eyes gazing into her reflection in the mirrored side panels.

When the door opened, he followed her out, hand in hand. She dug into her purse and took out her keys, but when she slowed in front of number 903, he tugged her close and brushed his lips against hers.

"Invite me in?"

"No."

He pouted, but she just kissed him again. Her tongue swept out and he quickly parted his lips and let her slip inside. Their tongues slid across and around each other and Tony lost himself to the sensation of the kiss, the awareness of her lips against his, her body pressed between himself and the door. There was an amazing feeling that started somewhere around the arc reactor that just spread out, down his torso, through his arms. Not that he was thinking about it at the time, but if he did, he might have called it bliss.

He broke the kiss and steadied his breathing against the smooth column of her neck. "Invite me in," he said, and this time it wasn't a question.

" _No."_

He sighed and leaned back so he could meet her eye. "Have dinner with me tonight?"

"Well, my refrigerator is looking kind of bare. I might as well."

God, he loved it when she was playful. It looked so good on her. He had a hard time suppressing his own smile, and he knew it reached his eyes. "I'll pick you up at eight, then."

* * *

He took the book out from inside the slim drawer in his bedside table. It was the only thing in there.

He'd meant to go straight down into his workshop. He was working the redesign of the jet boots, and if his math was correct, the prospective changes would necessitate a redesign of the exoskeleton. He had several good ideas, and he only meant to come into this bedroom and change shirts, but he sat down on his bed and pulled out the book instead.

"Prayers for a Privileged People" – Desmond had given it to him. He'd flipped through it a few times. There was some good stuff in there, not that Tony considered himself the praying kind, but he could admit that he was, at least, privileged. Most important for his purposes right now, there was a phone number, complete with a string of country and area codes.

"Jarvis, what time is it in Cape Town?"

"They are nine hours ahead of us, sir. It is midnight there."

"Right. Bad time to call. Program the following number into my phone," he said, rattling off the many digits.

"And what name should I put to this number, sir?"

"Desmond. And search the Internet for a picture of him smiling. See if you can find one of him an a god-awful fuchsia shirt, will you?"

"Do I take it to mean you would like a picture of Desmond Tutu, former archbishop of Cape Town?"

"You're smart. I wonder who programmed you."

"I believe you will find, sir, that the 'god-awful fuchsia' is one of the standard colors of the traditional Anglican bishop's purple shirt."

"Oh? I suppose we have one of those?"

"In America? Yes, sir."

"And he wears that same color?"

"I believe _she_ does, sir."

"Smarty pants."

Jarvis was silent as Tony put the book back into the drawer and changed shirts. He'd already arranged to have Hogan pick up the ring before the shop closed, which meant that he had four hours before he had to shower and get ready.

There were a pair of jet boots with his name on them.


	13. So Far, So Good: Whore of Babylon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You need to know two things about this chapter. First and foremost, it is still in my favorite top five things I've ever written. Second, is Pepper's mother's accent, modeled off the mother of a friend of mine (may you rest in peace, Barbara). She's from Western Massachusetts, and if you've never heard that accent, just imagine something loud and dramatic and you'll be in the right zip code.

The phone ran three times before her mother picked up on the other end in western Massachusetts.

"Hi, Mom."

"Ginny? Is that you?"

"Yep. I just thought I'd call to say –"

"What's wrong? Is your sister okay? Are the boys alright? Did you lose your job, sweetheart?"

"No, Mom. It's nothing like that. I'm just calling to tell you that –"

"You're boss hasn't been kidnapped again, has he? I'm not sure I can go through that twice. It must be so stressful for you, sweetheart. I know you work so hard, and I know you love your job and you're paid very well, but sweetheart, don't you think you should perhaps be thinking about something just a little lower in the stress department? You've got so many marketable skills, sweetheart, you're such a good organizer. You know, Ann can't organize her way out of a paper bag, but you've always been so good at it, dear. It's such a good thing she married that Severin, he's such an organized soul. You know how much I hate chaos. Drives me nuts. Now, it's not that I don't appreciate it, sweetheart, but why on earth are you calling? You only call on Sundays unless something very, very bad has happened."

"How about very good, Mom?"

"I usually have to hear about that from your sister. Now what's going on, Ginny, dear?"

Now that Pepper could actually get a word in edgewise, the words were lodged in her throat. It took her a moment, but eventually she was able to say – with a relatively normal voice, "I'm engaged."

"You're engaged?" She heard her mother screech over the phone with the earpiece some distance from her ear. "I hadn't even heard of a boyfriend! You mean you've been seeing someone all along, and I haven't heard anything, nothing, not even from your sister?"

Time for damage control. "Well, we've worked very closely for almost ten years, and we've both been feeling this way for several months now. We only got engaged today, and I wanted to let you know. Also, you know, I didn't wait until tomorrow because, well, he's sort of… well, he's a well known person, and you know how photographers are, Mom."

"Well, alright. You do live in L.A., land of the Hollywood yahoos. So who is this well known person to whom my eldest daughter has seen fit to finally ally herself?"

Pepper straightened her spine and took a deep breath. "Mom, I'm getting married to Tony Stark."

There was a silence and a clatter, and Pepper realized that her mother had dropped the phone. She could hear her mother saying the Hail Mary, even before she picked up the phone again.

"Virginia. Please tell me this is some kind of very strange joke. Please, just tell me now before I say something I'll regret later when I realize you and Ann are just pulling one over on your old mom. Did Severin put you up to this? That man has got a twisted sense of humor."

Pepper winced and took another deep breath. "Mom, I am getting married to Tony Stark. I'm serious."

"Virginia, you know that I support you completely whatever you choose to do, and if you choose to do this, I will support this as well. But I need to say something, because what do I know? Maybe this hasn't occurred to you already. Virginia, that man is the whore of Babylon. Your father and I never said anything when you went to work for him, we just wanted to be supportive, but I will say, we were completely dumbfounded. We raised you to be a peacenic, darling. We raised you to be non-violent, then you take up a job with an arms dealer. He proudly stands for an entire way of life that we'd always hoped you'd disagree with. But we were supportive. We loved you. We might not love the action, but we always love the child.

"And _then_ it comes out that he's the biggest man-whore alive. But we knew you'd be safe, we knew we'd raised you better than to just fall into bed with a pretty face who's probably got every sexually transmitted disease known to human kind, plus all the varieties that affect mutants as well. We knew you'd be alright. You always had a good head on your shoulders, Ginny, dear.

"And _then_ he goes and gets himself captured in Afghanistan. We thought perhaps this would be the end of it. God knows we don't wish anyone dead, but we thought perhaps that this was the end of the story, and you could finally move on to the bigger and better things on your horizon. But then he comes back! And of course, we're happy he's still alive, but God only knows what they did to him, what kind of inhumane tortures he faced, what kind of PTSD he's going to have to deal with from now on. Insomnia, flashbacks, violent outbursts, self-medication – you know what the human body suffers with insomnia, dear. It's dreadful.

"And _now_ , _**now!**_ Now he's parading around like God's specially engraved red and gold gift to earth in that ridiculous getup of his. _**This**_ is the man you want to marry?"

"Yes."

"You're not living with him, are you?"

"No, Mom. I haven't moved in with him."

"Well, that's a small mercy. When are you getting married?"

"We haven't set a date yet. But a photographer did catch us kissing today, so it'll probably be in the tabloids in the check-out aisles before the end of the week. I didn't want you to be surprised, is all."

"Well, thank you dear, that was very considerate of you. Where are you getting married? Out there?"

"We haven't really discussed any of this yet. He only asked me today. In front of Ann, actually, so you can get all the details from her. Where ever we decide, we'll fly you out, Mom."

"Good. If my daughter is marrying a billionaire, I'd expect nothing less. Is he making you sign one of those prenuptual things, as if you were some common golddigger?"

"Mom, we haven't discussed anything like that. But if he wanted me to, I would, Mom. I'm not in this for the money. I've got plenty of my own squirreled away, and a lovely package at work."

"Oh, _**God**_ , for a moment I forgot he was your boss! Oh, Ginny what were you thinking? Office romances never work out. And your boss? Oh, Ginny! _Virginia Elisabeth Potts!_ "

Pepper took another deep breath, held it in, and then let it out very, very slowly. "Mom, I understand that you have concerns, but you and Dad raised me very well. You are going to just have to trust me that I am doing what is best for me. If it makes you feel any better to know, I've always known him to have a good heart, and as for the rest of it, he came back from Afghanistan a different man – a better man. Time will show this to be true, Mom. Time will show the rest of the world what I can already see now."

"Do you love him?"

"Yeah, Mom, I do."

"Are you gonna stick with him through thick and thin, none of this Hollywood romance, and then get it annulled two weeks or seven years later?"

"That's my plan."

"When are you coming to Worcester to visit me, and introduce me to this new love of your life?"

"How about sometime before my birthday? I'll check some dates and then call you back."

"Alright. Tony Stark, huh? You gonna take his name?"

"We haven't discussed it, Mom."

"I think you should take his name. It's a nice name. You could do worse. If your father was alive, he'd flip his lid, but you could do worse. It's alright. This is going to be okay."

Pepper smiled despite herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, I just look at my husband and say, in a thick MA accent, _"Virginia! That man is the Whore of Babylon!"_ and then dissolve into giggles.


	14. So Far, So Good: Rogue's Gallery

Tony knocked on her door ten minutes early, entirely on purpose. She'd never let him in if he arrived on time, and she wouldn't make him stand in the hall if she weren't ready. It was his great hope that ten minutes would be a slim enough margin to believe that maybe it wasn't contrived, but neither was it rude.

It was funny – Tony had never before spent time considering the rudeness of being early or late, it wasn't really on his radar screen with anyone else, but he knew it mattered to her, and so with her it was suddenly so important. He'd have to start looking at his watch more often. In addition to this, he really wanted to go inside the inner sanctum of Pepper Potts. Her spaces at work had always been immaculate. A few family photos and a coffee mug from home were the only indications of personality in her work space. Her dress was always business formal, with the only possible peek into her character the fact that she had always – for the nine years he'd known her – worn four inch heels. Occasionally she attended parties with him, but with the exception of the one party she hadn't expected him to attend, she always dressed elegantly, but conservatively.

And yet, there was the blue dress with no back. Tony smiled at the memory. And there was the energy and enthusiasm she'd brought to his bed the night before. Tony smiled wider. And all of the teasing, lingering, searing kisses from the moment outside the R&D3 building yesterday afternoon, right up until he dropped her off at the door he stood before even now, this afternoon. She knew everything about him that there was to know, and there were moments when he felt like he knew nothing of her.

It was time to change that.

He heard her light step behind the door, finally, and heard too, the latch being released before she opened the door for him.

"You're early."

"Am I?" he quickly quipped. "No happy greeting for your long lost love?"

He watched her roll her eyes and back up out of the entranceway. "Come in. Make yourself comfortable. I'll just be another minute."

Tony walked in and the first thing he noticed was the bank of books on the far side of the living room. There were well-used and comfortable looking antiques, and Tony wondered if those had been handed down to her. From what he could see of it, her home was well laid out, modestly furnished, cared for and comfortable. He didn't see a TV, but imagined that there was one somewhere around here. All this he took in, but Tony was drawn to a bank of framed pictures hung in a kaleidoscope pattern on one wall in between two windows. He wandered over and smiled at what he saw: Pepper, and the people who loved her.

Pepper, holding a newborn, and looking for all the world like a redheaded Madonna.

Pepper, being hugged between two women of roughly the same age and same features, one of which he could now identify as Ann, the youngest. The youngest of how many, he had no idea.

Pepper, in a kitchen with an apron on, laying out cookies on a baking sheet with a little boy who looked to be no more than three or four.

And there were more, some of which featured her, some of which didn't. His attention was drawn back to the first he'd laid eyes on, with the infant, and for the first time in his life, Tony wanted to be a father. It wasn't a rational thought; it was more of an impulsive urge. She would look just as beautiful, just as perfect and pure holding his child – their child.

He was never one to be overwhelmed by sentiment, nonetheless, Tony found himself feeling something a little like loss. These were the people in Pepper's life, the people who loved Pepper and whom she loved in return. It was a rogue's gallery, a random gathering of affection, and he wasn't in it.

And now, he had a new goal.

A hand lay on his shoulder and snapped him out of his musings. He turned around and was able to appreciate the fully ready version of his Pepper. She was lovely. It was a little black dress he'd seen before, but she'd always worn some sort of jacket or wrap over it – but not tonight. Her hair was down and full of bouncy ringlets, and he took the opportunity to reach out and curl one around his finger.

"Do I pass inspection?" she asked with a wry look on her face.

"No," he replied with a practiced nonchalance.

"No?" The surprise was evident in her tone.

"You seem to be missing something."

"Oh. And I suppose you'll tell me—"

He interrupted with a little smile and a murmured, "yes."

"—Exactly what I'm missing?"

"As a matter of fact," he continued on, murmuring softly, reaching into his pocket for the surprisingly heavy bijou ring. He took up her left hand in the cramped space between their two bodies, and slipped the ring onto her finger. Not even giving her ample time to recover or look properly at the ring, he narrowed the distance between them. Holding only her hands, he leaned in. The moment before his lips pressed against hers, he murmured, "Now you pass." Long moments later they headed for the door.

There was a small duffel bag near the door that she picked up on her way out. As she locked the door behind her, and he gently removed the bag from her hand so he could carry it for her, he commented, "So are you moving in, after all?"

"No," she said, finished with the door. He put his free hand on the small of her back as they walked to the elevator. "But I had a sneaking suspicion that I might not make it home tonight."

She punched the button for the elevator and it opened almost immediately.

"Oh, you'll make it home, Miss Potts. Maybe not your home. Maybe my home. But you'll make it there."

She smiled at him, a small, sharp, knowing smile and the only thing that kept him from kissing her again was the opening door of the elevator. He waited until they were inside and then blessed the slowness of the elevator as it began its gradual descent.

"Tony, we're in public," she said admonishingly.

"No," he remarked between nibbles on her neck, "we are in… an empty elevator." He licked her neck and his free hand started roving up her side.

When they finally made it outside, she saw that Tony had illegally parked directly in front of her building. It was his little silver Audi, not the Bentley.

"Gave Hogan the night off, then?" she asked as he opened car door for her and handed her into the seat.

"I thought we'd fly solo tonight." He popped the trunk and placed the bag in before moving around to the driver's side. Once he got in and started the engine, he heard her reply.

"There will be no flying tonight, Mr. Stark."

"Miss Potts, are you saying that I don't make your heart soar?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Not always, no."

Tony maneuvered the car into traffic and set off for the restaurant with which Jarvis had made reservations.

"So then I do. On a regular basis. Just not always."

Tony was surprised, but somewhat gratified to suddenly feel her hand on his upper thigh, squeezing and rubbing.

"And do I make your heart soar, Tony Stark?" Her voice was deliciously low and succulent and the sound of it went straight to his groin.

"Oh, God, _yes_." Oh, and he meant it. His heart, along with other bits of his anatomy were beginning to soar even now.

"Good to know," she said, her voice back to normal. She gave his leg one last friendly pat then took her hands back.

He might have whined at that moment, but he wasn't sure, because the next moment she was laughing. He didn't often hear her laugh, but it was beautiful. It was the happiest sound he could imagine.

He shifted gear and then reached over to hold her hand.

"Thank you for the ring, Tony. It's beautiful."

He pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed it.

"And thank you for the clothes today. And the shoes."

"But not for the lingerie?"

"I thought we decided last time that it wasn't really a present for me, but for you."

He grinned. "Hm. I seem to recall something… Wait, it's coming back to me. You swore never to wear the garter belt for me or anyone else. And yet I seem to recall—"

"Yes, I know," she said harshly, but he continued to speak over her.

"—a certain discovery yesterday—"

"Okay, Tony," she said, but he continued talking.

"—that led to really the most amazing evening of my life—"

"I lied, okay? …It was the most amazing evening of your life? But, but… There were no handcuffs, or dress up, I mean, I didn't tie you down even once, and we were only in your bed. It wasn't kinky at all."

"It was _you_ , Pepper." He let go of her to downshift, then picked up her hand again. "It doesn't have to be kinky to be amazing. Not that I want to rule out kinky," he said, glancing over at her to check her assent. "It was you, in my bed and in my arms for the first time of many, many times. It was you, who know me and still want to be around me. It was you, beautiful, sexy, entrancing _you_ in a _garter belt_. What's not to love?"

"Well, you're no slouch yourself."

"Thank you. I've had practice."

Tony was relieved to see Pepper dissolve into laughter at that. The moment it came out of his mouth he wondered if he shouldn't have even referenced his somewhat jaded history. But it wasn't like she didn't know about it, intimately.

"I mean," she said, her voice still heavy with laughter, "that I find you entrancing as well. You have a good heart, a brilliant mind, and quite a striking physique. And you can double as a nightlight."

It was Tony's turn to laugh. "And you find this sexy?"

"Incredibly. I know; I'm strange." She shifted and reached over with her free hand and slipped it underneath his tie, to lie right over the arc reactor. While of course, he couldn't feel if she touched it softly, the surrounding tissue could feel the slight pressure of her hand. "Proof you have a heart," she whispered.

They stopped at a light and he looked over at her. "You're proof I have a heart," he whispered back. They kissed lightly, before he was reminded of his duties as a motorist by the honking of horns.


	15. So Far, So Good: Getting dressed

After a decadent weekend that consisted of quite a lot of time in bed, plus a bit of time out on his yacht, 5 A.M. Monday morning seemed to arrive entirely too soon for the both of them. As a matter of record, neither one of them sprang from their shared bed that morning. Rather, they lingered for a very well spent half hour, and then decided on a mutual shower (purely out of a desire to conserve water).

As they were picking out clothes for the day, Tony already having picked out her lingerie du jour, an activity he took on like a four year old drawn toward the cookie jar, she though of the coming day, the questions she had for him, without even consulting her lists, and then the luxury of the weekend of not talking business at all.

"Tony, we need to have a process conversation," she started.

"Ugh. Sounds dreadful. I vote we postpone till next week when the weather's finer."

Pepper looked pointedly out the bedroom window to the beautiful blue Malibu sky, the perfect foil for the calm Pacific before getting back to her point.

"Well, I get a vote too, and that leaves us at a deadlock. Let's just have the conversation and get it over with."

He walked past her on the way to the closet that, for the moment, he shared with her, wearing only his boxers. "Has anyone told you that you can be a real downer, Potts?" he asked, before brushing his lips past hers before continuing on.

"You, on a regular basis. But seriously—"

"Wounded! You wound me," came his muffled voice interrupting her from somewhere inside the closet.

"I want to know how you want to handle this. When does our business day start? I mean, on days like this? Should we be dealing with business issues at five in the morning, do we wait until we get to the office, if that's where we're headed?"

He poked his head out looking deliciously disheveled, dark starched dress shirt on, but unbuttoned and hanging loose without an undershirt beneath, dress pants on, but not fully zipped up, to say nothing of being buttoned. Seeing him, for a moment Pepper was going on automatic, a thought pattern that sounded internally something like 'stop looking and don't even think of touching,' but then all at once she realized she _could_. She almost laughed at the realization and completely failed to register that he'd asked her a question and was waiting for the answer.

His arc reactor glowed like a soft blue beacon and she took the several steps toward him without looking away from his beautiful chest. The tips of her slightly chilled fingers ran lightly up from the circle she made around the metal sidewall, up past his nicely defined pectoral muscles to his shoulders, and all the way around to the back of his neck. And then she traced that trail two more times while nibbling at the farthest corner of his freshly shaved and trimmed beard. He simply stood there and took it, leaning against the doorframe, his breathing becoming more and more audible. It was the smell of him, and the texture of his skin and the tone of the muscles and bone beneath, partially hidden, partially concealed, and the knowledge that this was hers and hers alone. In all of his days a playboy, he didn't do repeats and he did his damnedest to get out of bed and out of dodge before his bed partners emerged from dreamland. They'd actually discussed it once, though at the time it had fallen into the realm of Things She Didn't Need To Know About Her Boss. And so seeing him, freshly showered, just getting dressed and so utterly delectable – she was in virgin territory, something there wasn't much of with Tony Stark.

As she began to rake his sides with her fingernails, he groaned out her name in warning. "Pepper…"

She murmured in a vaguely questioning way, starting to lick a little trail up to his ear before gently biting at the lobe.

"Don't start what you're not prepared to finish."

"I just wanted a little nibble," she whispered in his ear, speaking entirely the truth. Her hands were at his lower back now, her fingers lightly grazing the sensitive skin.

"And now that you've had your nibble?" he asked, and she could feel his own hands come around her waist as he shifted his weight from the doorframe to his own two feet.

"I just want a little more," she whispered, now nibbling on the skin just below his ear. "I plan on being completely appropriate at the office, you know," she commented, just breathing in his scent as one hand went around to rub the skin on his chest again. She couldn't get enough of him. "And you caught me off guard, standing there, looking so delicious."

He groaned again and she heard the zipper to her skirt being undone in the back. He walked them backwards until her back was pressed to the window facing the ocean. Her skirt slipped down and before she knew it, she could feel his large hands on the back of her right thigh, urging it up and over his hip. His own pants seemed to hang lower on his hips, and she wondered when he'd loosened them.

She could feel him hot and hard against her leg. She herself hadn't gotten to the point of putting a shirt on yet, so the cool glass provided a lovely sensory counterpoint to his warm, and in some places hot, skin.

"I—this…" she panted softly near his ear, desperately trying to get out a coherent thought. "Not planned," she tried to explain before losing herself and her fingers in his luxurious shock of black hair.

"Oops," he groaned, sliding her other leg around his hip, leaving her fully pinned between him and the glass, clinging quite ecstatically to his body.

"So beautiful," she murmured, looking into his lovely, lovely eyes, before pulling his lips close enough to kiss.

Their lips broke apart with a gasp as he slid into her. She lingered in a brief moment of feeling utterly complete before clenching her inner muscles down tight on him. It was really the only movement she was capable of making in this position, but she decided to milk it for all it was worth, as it were.

She could feel his groan resonate throughout her body at her actions. His breath was harsh in her ear as he pumped in and out of her tightly held sheath. "You're like a drug, Pep," he murmured softly in between thrusts. "Every time… Oh, God every time I think I've had enough… I just want you more." It was a few much sharper thrusts later that he continued his commentary with, "It's so _weird._ "

It was getting to be a more and more frantic a coupling, and as much as she was deeply enjoying herself, there was no way that Pepper was going to be coming as soon as she anticipated he would. Still, she was sure she'd get hers at some point in the day, even if she didn't count the three orgasms from earlier in the morning. Which is why she just whispered, " _harder_ ," and held on tight, one arm wrapped around his torso, one around his shoulders.

He came with a gasp and thrust two, and then three more times. His entire frame was wound tight like a spring for long moments after that, until he seemed to melt, and just lean against her, gasping for air as first one of her legs, then the other came down from their vice grip on his slim hips.

"Weird good, or weird bad?" she asked, trying to calm down her own inner maelstrom. It was best just to get her mind off of her complete lack of fulfillment. She had gotten in her nibble, after all.

She was surprised when Tony seemed to slide bonelessly to the floor. At first she wondered if something was wrong, but he'd collapsed rather conveniently to his knees and then stopped. His hands caressed her legs and he only looked up when he'd convinced one of her legs to drape itself over his shoulder.

"Definitely weird _good_ ," he confirmed, grinning and looking every inch a satyr with the first nymph of the morning. This was said just a brief moment before he leaned in and let his tongue take up where his larger organ left off.

Pepper screeched and plunged her hands into his hair, tilting her hips and holding him tight to his position. She knew she'd started to babble incoherently, but his tongue was a completely different _texture,_ and it felt so mind-bendingly _good._ It was the first time he'd done this, but it would be happening much more often, if she had anything to do with it.

She came screaming his name.

It was all she could do afterwards to lean back with her eyes closed and catch her breath against the deliciously cool glass. She could feel him slip her skirt back up her legs, and she obligingly leaned into his deliciously half-dressed chest as he pulled it back over her hips and secured it.

She moistened her lips with her tongue as he leaned back a little bit – still embracing her, however.

"We need to do that more often," she pointed out, her voice a little abraded from the screaming.

"Do I give good head, my darling one?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked, not wanting his ego to get any larger than it already was.

"In that case," he said, one hand snaking up her skirt, shoving aside the black lace bikinis he'd chosen for her and swiping one finger inside to collect her wetness, and making her gasp. "You should share the experience with me," he said, the same finger now painting her lips with the slick moisture, painting and painting until she relented and opened her mouth to suck his finger clean.

She closed her eyes as her tongue swept over and under his thick forefinger. The taste was tangy, but not unpleasant at all. And coating, as it was, his _finger_ it was a perfectly pleasant experience. If she wasn't careful, the last remaining rational part of her brain reasoned, they could be at it all morning long.

"Tasty, huh?" he asked, and she opened her eyes and saw that his eyes were still dark and lovely. She couldn't resist kissing him, and tasting herself all over again there, on his lips.

"We should finish getting dressed," she pointed out breathlessly.

"Says the woman who attacked me while dressing," he said, stepping back and fastening his cuffs. She started to button his dark dress shirt, staring at the bottom, and when she'd just passed the arc reactor she leaned in to give that portion of his chest a light kiss.

"Yes, well, I'm done now," she pointed out, hands on her hips, clad in a bra and skirt. She went to where the rest of her clothes for the day were laid out over a chair as he went back into the closet to fetch a tie and jacket. "Are you going to finish so you can make me breakfast?" she called.

"Only if you promise to make me coffee," he responded, coming back with his shirt properly tucked in, and in the process of wrapping a tie around his neck, but without the top button of his shirt done, as was typical.

"Done," she said, putting her shirt on and doing up the buttons. She looked down and for the first time paid attention to what she was looking at. There was an odd shaped crescent on the top of each breast and Pepper had to stare at her own chest for a moment to realize what it was. When she realized that it was the imprint of his arc reactor, she looked up and caught him grinning wolfishly at her.

Pepper refused to say anything, but she did give him a dirty look.

In response, Tony kept his grin firmly in place and quirked an eyebrow at her, tossing his suit jacket on the bed – which she knew he wouldn't actually put on until they got to the car – but picked up hers and held it open for her.

"I believe you wished to have a process conversation, my own darling one."


	16. So Far, So Good: Breakfast

She put the beans through the grinder and fetched the half and half from the refrigerator as he warmed up the pan and started the bread to toast. They danced around each other without incident on that early Monday morning.

"My question still stands, Tony. Where do you think the line should be for us, when we're not in the office, or when it's not specifically nine-to-five, or a work related function? I mean, do you want me to start briefing you at 5 A.M.? Talk about contract negotiations over breakfast?"

"And my question to you still stands, Pepper," he pointed out, though as he thought about it, she'd probably missed his question the first time around. The look on her face confirmed his guess. It stroked his pride to realize that parading around half-naked in front of her could, in fact, elicit a response out of the reasonably stoic and seemingly jaded Miss Potts. "You get a vote," he clarified. "What's your opinion?"

He watched her pause in getting out two mugs and wondered why the answer wasn't forthcoming.

"I guess… I would prefer if we could have some space for just the two of us, and whatever we want to do or talk about. I mean, there's so much for both of us to do, and we work long hours, and you could work 24 hours and not get it all done, there's so much on your plate. I guess I think if we don't carve out some boundaries, we could conceivably always be working."

Tony looked at her, remembering their weekend together in which absolutely no work had gotten done (except for a few hours here and there on the suit, which didn't count at all in his eyes). "I don't think there's any danger in that," he remarked, remembering the delicious manner in which he'd woken up.

She looked up at him and smiled shyly. "I'd just as soon be intentional about it, though. Humor me?"

"Okay," he shrugged, and flipped the eggs in the pan before plating the toast and putting some butter on the table. "I agree. Except in case of emergency, we keep work at work, or work functions. Since I'm no longer keeping any kind of low profile, I don't see that we'd spend much time here working, but if that's the case, we'll keep it as best we can within normal working hours."

Breakfast was finally served, and they both sat down.

"Does that include car time?" she asked.

"Do you want it to?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Sometimes. But not always."

"Oo, Miss Potts," he half-exclaimed in a low voice as he buttered his bread. "Are you planning some heretofore unexplored bout of debauchery in the car? Because if you are, you should know that I approve. Completely. Go for it."

"I might be," she replied, loftily.

"Excellent. It's nice to know that I've been a positive influence on you."

She snorted as she cut her eggs and toast, one on top of the other. "Not according to my mother."

She never did mention how that particular conversation went, and he hadn't found a particularly apt moment to bring it up before now.

"What did your mother have to say?"

He watched Pepper grin as she ate and he patiently waited until she was able to speak. He sipped some of his morning coffee, perfectly made.

"Well, she came around in the end. Wants us to visit her in Massachusetts. I said I'd talk it over with you."

"She came around in the end? What did she say in the beginning, or is it not fit for print?"

He watched as Pepper giggled and looked as if she wasn't going to say anything at all. At his rather significant look, she relented.

"She might have called you… um," she said, interrupting herself with laughter, "…the whore of Babylon."

Well, that was a new one.

"The whore of Babylon?" he deadpanned.

Composure completely lost, she just nodded.

"Well, okay. That fits. I mean, not anymore, but I can see her point. You mentioned she came around in the end? She's okay with you dating the whore of Babylon, then?"

This seemed to set her off again into another gale of laughter. He just smiled at watched her. She was beautiful.

"Well, that settles it then. When we get into the office take a look at my schedule and see if you can't wrangle a few days in Boston. She's in Boston, right?"

She shook her head. "Western Mass."

"Close enough. Small state. Is that where you're from?"

She nodded.

"When did you come out here?"

"For school."

"And then you worked for a governor, right?"

She nodded again. "Of Washington State."

"Our green-loving neighbors to the north. And did you enjoy that position?"

She shrugged in a fashion that told him she didn't, particularly. "I learned a lot," she replied. After a moment or two she added, "My boss hit on me. I didn't stick around long after that."

"Well, that's ironic, isn't it? I hope that somewhere in the back of your mind you're not job hunting, just because we've had some amazing sex in the last 48 hours."

"I'm not going anywhere," she said with a small smile. "I'm looking forward to seeing how well we handle all the different aspects of our relationship."


	17. So Far, So Good: A slight freakout

In the heavy morning traffic, it would take Happy 75 minutes to drive them from The House to the office, and that was if Tony's driver/bodyguard was having a good day and there were no traffic delays. This day, Pepper noted, seemed to be a good day.

The first half hour of the ride was in preview of the day. Tony had a budget meeting with the CFO that promised to be nightmarish for him, and there were several proposals on his desk that he needed to put the finishing touches on, and then send to her to polish. He had a lunch meeting with the engineers in the new experimental division, which would undoubtedly run late, as he was apt to roll up his sleeves and start tinkering with them. He had six conference calls with a senator, three congressmen, a general, and a group of smaller subcontractors.

Baring major incident or sudden bout of irresponsibility, he would be finished by six. It was likely she might also be done then, and the plan was a quiet evening 'at home'.

Pepper wondered if this would tend toward the shape of their days together.

Pepper wondered how often she'd get back to her own apartment.

Pepper thought about her own day, her own schedule, always revolving around his, her own work life: to help him do his job. She had previewed the budget, which is why she knew it would be a nightmare. Division six was over budget and the new developments had not yet begun to take up the slack for the Weapons Division, nor would they any time soon. Achieving Millennium Development Goals was great, but it didn't pay like guns and missiles did.

Pepper had sorted the proposals according to priority. She had arranged for the conference calls in the afternoon – many of them having already been rescheduled once. She had arranged for the lunch with the engineers on _this_ day, full of paperwork and tedious meetings because she knew Tony, and knew he'd need a break. She could either schedule one in, or he'd take one anyway and blow his schedule to hell.

It took two people to do his job. One person to do it, and one person to make sure everything was in place so no time was wasted. But somewhere along the line – rather soon, if Pepper remembered correctly – being Mr. Stark's PA turned into being Tony's assistant in nearly every circumstance of life. He had Hogan to help vet the women he used to sleep with, but that was the only part of his life Pepper was barred, and would have refused to go in any instance. But she was the one to usher said ladies out the door the next morning, should he bring them home. And it happened like clockwork. Tony knew she woke up every morning at five, and promptly at 5:15 on such mornings she would receive a text message from him that simply said 'Dry cleaning'. Which meant that the latest sex-interest was blissfully asleep in his bed while Tony, having collected whatever clothes of hers he could find, had dumped them with Happy to drop off at the drycleaners while he tinkered in his shop. It was her job to pick up the dry cleaning and direct said interest out of the house. On such days as these, Pepper rode to the office with him, leaving her own car at The House, and then had to drive back home afterwards. In L.A. traffic, such days as these usually added an extra three hours onto her workday.

Not that such days would be part of her work life anymore. But there were few parts of his practical, day-to-day life that Pepper didn't have a hand in. She knew him, as much as one can know anyone. And yet, did he know _her_?

Tony had a tendency to slip in and out of professionalism whenever he felt like it, but she had always tried to maintain her distance. She wasn't sure why, but she even hid the one picture of the two of them that she kept in her apartment. A smallish picture taken by Jarvis a few years ago, it captured them perfectly. Tony was looking mischievous and she was just about to roll her eyes. It ended up as quite a good picture, and when she'd found it months after while looking for something else, she saved it and had it printed out. It stood in a delicate silver frame on her desk, in her living room, but she'd put the picture away when he'd come to pick her up at her apartment, and she wasn't sure why. Perhaps she just didn't want him to think that she'd cared for him when he'd clearly not given a damn about her.

Or was that fair?

No, it probably wasn't fair. For years they had been something like friends, but it had certainly been an unequal friendship based more on proximity than mutuality, and clouded somewhat by the fact that he paid her salary (but mitigated by the fact that he didn't give a shit about money).

And now it would be different. But how different? There would be no 5:15 A.M. dry cleaning messages from Jarvis. She would still be his assistant in life and work. And she would also be his partner in life, if not in work.

Work. A pit of despair opened up in her stomach when Pepper thought of her colleagues. Dancing with him at the benefit in the ridiculous blue dress had nothing on waltzing into the office with a giant diamond on her left ring finger. Pepper tried to remind herself that this was the better alternative – merely dating him would open up a giant can of worms that would include her own character ripped to shreds. Still, she was having a hard time remembering how being engaged to him would be better, might shield her from such character attacks. And there would be nine full hours of it.

Pepper wondered about her state of mind come six o'clock. If it was anything like her current state of mind, she wasn't likely to be very good company at all. And it seemed that Tony had noticed – a small miracle in and of itself.

"Hey. What's going on?" His voice was gentle, but lost on her.

Pepper's eyes darted toward him but then focused once more out of the window on the traffic passing by. She shook her head. She didn't know what was wrong, or at least, she hadn't really had a moment to consider the issue yet. It was more just a vague but surprisingly strong feeling of unease.

"What are we doing?" she whispered, and she didn't even hear the note of horror in her voice.

"Riding in a car that's driving down the freeway."

She slowly turned toward him again. The sudden intense emotion seemed to fill up her entire body, like a shower going cold all of a sudden. "Tony, this is never going to work," she said, her voice still a whisper.

There was an image in her head of any number of her coworkers noticing the large diamond engagement ring and asking her who the lucky man was. And in each imaginary scenario, she choked on his name. She imagined herself smiling and saying nothing, but that never worked for long. Then she would say his name, and the vitriol would begin to fly. Vile and dirty accusations and innuendo would assault her. Her reputation in the company, her ability to get anything done would be shot. They would think she'd been sleeping with him all along. They would think she was loose, unprincipled, a fortune hunter, a brainless bimbo who managed to land her billionaire boss.

"Hey," he said, capturing her hand in his, opening her palm and placing kiss in the center. "It is going to work, because we're going to make it work. We've got a plan, and if we need to change it mid stream, we will."

She shut her eyes against his optimism. "I don't know if I can do this." She wasn't going to cry. She wasn't, wasn't, wasn't going to cry. It was completely ridiculous that she wanted to cry. An hour ago she was blissful in this man's company, and now she wanted to cry?

"You are strong, and you are brave, Pepper. You can do it. And you won't be alone. In fact, let's make a preemptive strike. Come on. Whip out the Blackberry, and send this email to all Stark employees and the board, from my address." She sniffed back the tears and fumbled with the device, but he waited until she was ready. "'To all at Stark Industries: It is my great pleasure to announce my pending marriage to Miss Virginia Potts of Massachusetts.'"

She looked up at him askance and he nodded. "Are you sure?" she asked.

"Positive," he said, and she could feel that he meant it. It was in his eyes and his tone and the way his hand rested heavily on her thigh. "And continuing on," he added softly, "'Further details are not available at this time. Please join us in our celebration by considering the rest of the week as an optional and additional paid vacation time. As per company policy, should you be approached by the media on this topic, there should be no comment.' Sign it 'Have a great week, Tony Stark'. Send it. Are you sending it? Pepper?"

She leaned over and kissed him full on the lips.

"Hm, yes, I agree," he murmured, when they finally parted. He brushed his lips over her forehead and massaged his strong fingers into the base of her skull, which brought a little moan from her, unbidden.

"I didn't say anything, Tony," she responded softly.

"No. But still. That should put you in a positive light. Us. You, us, we. We'll be viewed in a positive light. I'm thinking a good Christmas bonus this year, too." He leaned in and spoke directly into her ear, ever so softly, "Send the message, Pep."

As it was, there was only oohing and aahing over her ring and looks of mild envy. Tony was at lunch which some of his engineers, undoubtedly having a blast, tinkering with a sandwich in one hand, even while Pepper ate with the usual ladies, an eclectic group including two accountants, a lawyer, two engineers and the CFO's PA. She could tell they were all busting at the seams to ask questions they all deemed highly inappropriate. Finally, one of them addressed the matter circuitously.

"So, what's it like, being engaged to the infamous Tony Stark?"

Pepper kept her countenance, only raising a single eyebrow the tiniest bit. "He's infamous for so many things. Genius. Billionaire. POW. Industrialist. Philanthropist. Weapons Manufacturer. Superhero. Playboy."

"It's that last one we're fascinated with," her lawyer friend muttered into her Diet Coke.

There was a moment of utter quiet at their outside picnic table before all seven of them cracked up laughing, Pepper included. When she could catch her breath, she responded.

"Well, just as he is no longer a manufacturer of weapons, neither is he a playboy."

"Well, yes, but…" someone muttered, and everyone started laughing again.

Still giggling, Pepper responded again. "He keeps me on my toes, alright? And that's all I'm saying."

"I hope you keep him on _his,_ girlfriend," one of the engineers responded.

Pepper just laughed in the affirmative.


	18. So Far, So Good: Tony's fantasy

To say that Tony Stark could multitask was perhaps not quite accurate. More accurate would be to say that there was always one part of his mind occupied with planning, plotting, crafting, designing, redesigning, modifying, crunching numbers, creating algorithms, and seeing his carefully laid plans through to fruition. This was the part of his brain that plotted – whether it was the latest upgrade to an engineering project, or how best to get laid – this was the most basic part of Tony's mind and it was the lens through which he saw the rest of the world. That other people might not function like this would have been a shock to Mr. Stark.

There was another, admittedly smaller, part of his mind that was occasionally allotted the space to do other things – communicating with others, maintaining social ties, dealing with the smaller details of every day living. Largely, Tony preferred to delegate these sorts of things to Pepper, but he was capable of them. At least, he was capable in theory.

That Tony had never quite figured out how to shut his mind down and just _be_ might explain his need to be intoxicated in order to relax, though habit and addiction undoubtedly played their part as well. Still, of the whole range of new awareness of which Tony Stark was newly capable, the knowledge that his drinking might be an issue was still not quite on his radar screen.

But this was simply how Tony's mind worked. And if it was generally known how Tony's mind worked, then his present behavior might not have surprised Pepper at all.

It was the middle of one of the afternoon conference calls – he'd already pitched his proposal to the Senator and it looked like funding for his new project might make it into the proposed legislation. The Senator's voice filled Tony's spacious office in the strange and disembodied way that happens when someone has been put on the speakerphone.

Tony looked up as the door opened, knowing that the only person it could be was the one and only person he actually wanted to see that day. In fact, the call was almost over when Pepper very quietly walked into his otherwise empty office with a cup of espresso with the requisite 3 teaspoons of sugar stirred in. He tossed her an easy smile and responded briefly to the Senator's query.

Before she could lay the cup down within arms reach and retreat away again, he reached out and without betraying anything in the tone of his response in the phone call, he took her hand. She looked at him, the question in her eyes, but he just smiled.

With his other hand he picked up the cup of coffee and tossed it back, replacing the cup on his desk. Pushing slightly away from his desk and ever-so-slightly angled toward the lovely Miss Potts, Tony pressed his lips to the back of her hand, and the ring he'd only recently placed on her finger. And then he pulled her into his lap.

To her credit, only her face showed her surprise. She made not one sound that might have betrayed him to the woman on the other end of the line.

As the Senator continued to speak, Tony took the opportunity to place delicate kisses on the inside of hand he still held, gentle, tiny kisses on her palm. Eventually he graduated to sucking on the tips of her fingers. By this point, Pepper's arm had come around his neck, a move that neatly anchored her as she shifted and wiggled in his lap in what he considered a highly satisfying manner.

When the phone call ended, it was followed by a long, low laugh that just felt like an excellent expression of his soul. He leaned up and kissed her full on the lips. Sadly, the kiss ended a bit before it ought to have, in his opinion.

"Tony Stark, you are incorrigible," Pepper reprimanded him in quite a prim fashion.

"And this comes as a surprise to you, why?"

"I told you, I have every intention of being good at work. Completely proper. No questionable behavior."

"You know where they say good intentions get you."

"You're missing the point, Tony."

"Which is that you're against a quickie on my desk?"

Her lack of a quick response, hard swallow and momentarily wandering eyes told him exactly what she thought of a quickie on his desk – maybe not such a bad idea. He put on hand gently on her thigh and let his thumb rub small circles there.

"Be honest, now." He knew he was grinning, and he knew she thought he was adorable when he grinned. He did it on purpose. He kissed just under her chin, then nibbled down her neck, then back up again to her ear. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are to me, Pep?" he whispered, his hand on her thigh going a little higher. He placed her free hand on his chest, just to the left of the reactor, and pressed his own hand over hers, continuing to whisper. "How priceless? How grateful I am that you're willing to hang out with me for the rest of our lives? Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

She shifted and kissed him, her tongue sweeping in and tasting like the dark chocolate she must have just eaten. Her fingers curled in, clutching at his chest and he could feel the delicious pressure of her nails over his dress shirt.

"Lock the door, Tony," she breathed against his lips.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, hardening even more so with her words than he was before. With a free hand he reached over and activated the lock from the discrete control panel underneath the surface of his desk.

"Ever done this before?" he asked as he slid his hand farther up her skirt to skim at the lace underwear he'd chosen for her this morning. Tony definitely got a kick out of knowing precisely what she was wearing underneath her clothes.

She murmured her negative reply. "I'm not sure I'll be able to come anything like quickly."

"Leave that to me," he replied in a low rumble that made her close her eyes and squirm. He brushed a hand over a peaked nipple and smiled, warming to his task.

"Have you had fantasies about me, Pepper?" he asked in that same, low voice. He kissed along her neck, in between his words. "Have you ever imagined us doing… unspeakably tasty things, right here, right on my desk?" He licked the base of her throat and sucked on it lightly, gently pinching a hardened nipple. "You may not be surprised to learn," he said softly, now coming back to her ear so he could whisper directly his response. " _I have_."

Her exhale was harsh as she twisted in for another kiss, this more searing than the last.

Previously he had just been lightly stroking at that loveliest of lace hidden by her skirt, but now he began to rub gently over the top of where he knew the little bundle of nerves to be.

"What happens?" Pepper gasped softly as she broke the kiss and loosened his tie, unbuttoning the second and third buttons before kissing the base of his neck, then latching on and sucking for all she was worth. Tony's mind drew a complete blank just briefly as his cock throbbed on a seemingly direct line to his neck. It was all he could do to breathe.

"Huh?"

"In your fantasy. Tell me what happens, Tony," she replied softly, breathing and blowing over the spot. He shuddered, then brought himself back to the task at hand.

She shifted slightly, rubbing her legs together. He took the opportunity to push the lace aside and seek out the slick, full flesh beyond. She gasped as he did so.

"It starts with you walking in," he starts, back to kissing her neck up and down in between his words. "Professionally dressed, you're still sexy as hell. Gorgeous legs done up with those high heels you wear. Your eyes have got this flash to them, like they do when we you're teasing me, or when we argue. Due to any number of reasons, and believe me my dearest Virginia, there are a multitude of possible scenarios in my head, you find yourself bending over my desk."

Tony was circling a finger in between the slick folds, delving deep, then coming back to circle shallowly, and between his actions and his words, her breathing had become shallow and harsh.

"Then what?" she panted.

"I can just see the line of a garter belt through your skirt. You moan as I run my hand over the back of your thigh, up over your perfect ass, to push down a bit on your lower back. I'm usually rock hard by this point, and when I push up your skirt to your waist and push my fingers beyond the pale blue underwear that you've got on under the garter belt, I find that you're _sopping wet._ "

Pepper shuddered again. "Then what?" she prompted, a hand at the back of his neck holding him close to her.

"Then I unzip my pants and take out Mr. Happy."

Pepper giggled. "Oh, Tony, you can do better than that."

"How about _my cock?_ "

"Better," she whispered, almost losing her breath on a particularly deep thrust of his fingers.

"And I'm thick and hard with wanting you. So thick, Pepper," he breathed into her ear. " _So hard, because I want you so badly._ "

Tony watched as she moistened her lips.

"Just for a moment, just to draw it out, I leave the head of my cock at your weeping entrance, and we both can barely breathe in that moment. Then you push back, and _oh God,_ I'm inside and you're hot and tight and wet, and I think that heaven on earth is possible. With one hand on your hip and one finger on your clit, I push inside of you over and over again.

"You can almost feel it, can't you?" he asked her and was gratified to hear a whimper in response.

"Then what?" she prompted, again, and nearly inaudible this time.

"Then, Pepper… _then we fuck._ And it's really, _really_ good."

"I think I might be ready for that now," she replied, all in a rush of one breath. She crawled off his lap and stood just off to the side of his computer, bending at the waist and arching her back.

He couldn't keep his hands away from her. "Spread your legs a little," he said. "A little more," he added with a smile, his hands running up her thigh, moving the skirt with it. "That's it."

She moaned softly as he took his hands from her to unzip his fly and release the uncomfortable tightness it restrained. Cock in hand, he ran the head over the slickness of her folds before pushing in and sinking into her heat fully and completely.

" _Oh, God, Pepper._ "

Holding it here, he massaged her lower back for a moment before taking her hips in hand and thrusting in and out, over and over. Their breathing was harsh, but neither made any other sound. After a short while, Tony moved one hand around to her front, bending over her slightly to do so. He found her clit with ease and rubbed it directly with the delicious circular motion he knew she favored.

"Oh, God, Tony. Just like that," she whispered. "Oh, yes, just a little more. Just a little…"

And just like that, he could feel her orgasm clenching so tightly around him it set off him off almost instantly after. His own release felt amazing – the heat and the grip of her causing his own balls to tighten then release. The feeling of those final thrusts taking a little bit from every part of his body, a little bit of all that was good, and in Pepper's case, a little bit of his soul, thrusting it inside of her and leaving it there in her safe keeping.

It was several long moments before either of them moved, and as usual, that moment when they lost contact, when their bodies were no longer intimately connected as they had been just a heartbeat before, that was always a moment for a sigh.

Tony helped her to stand up straight, to tug her skirt down, and then kissed her softly. Holding her hand, he stepped away from the desk and led her to his private bathroom.

"Let's get you cleaned up, what do you say?"


	19. So Far, So Good: The yacht

Pepper was a woman who enjoyed the rhythms of her day. What might feel like a rut to one person, was to Pepper a day well organized and well executed. Life working so closely with a hyper-active billionaire jet-setting genius, however, did not always pan out to any discernable rhythm. It had required incredibly flexibility and was the source of new few migraines for her in the first year, but Pepper had adjusted quite well. Few were the times that her boss ended up surprising her, though perhaps more often lately than before his time away.

Still, there was a frision of satisfaction to be had when everything on the task list was finished, when every meeting managed to be attended by whomever needed to attend it, and when the day, finally over, seemed complete. For one thing, work actually got done, but a subtle, though no less satisfying meaning could also be found in such days: it meant that she'd been able to look ahead, see what could be reasonably done, what was not inhuman or inhumane to be expected for either herself, or her boss.

With this in mind it was perhaps understandable that Pepper got just a shade cranky when her days completely lost their rhythm.

"We're not working right now, Pepper. Remember? We had this conversation. You cleared our schedules, I gave SI the rest of the week off, and now we're very busy baking ourselves in the California sun in preparation for jumping off the back of the yacht, taking a swim, and then having sex until we both pass out in the cabin. It's a plan. It's a good plan. You've added reading a novel to the plan, and I admit that I might have started snoozing, but I think the plan is still valid."

Pepper watched as his covered gaze wandered around, then back to her. Normally she found him charming, but it wasn't working just now. She put her novel down and propped herself up on her elbows, looking over to the man in the cushioned chaise lounge next to her. She ignored the short, tight swim trunks, the wild and disheveled black hair, and she most certainly ignored the great expanse of exposed skin pulled tight over his muscled physique. The gently glowing arc reactor did not sway her.

"Tony, this isn't work, and you can't avoid it forever. Agent Coulsen was very nice. Nick Fury broke in and disabled Jarvis. Do you really want to witness who they might send the third time, or are you going to decide what you're going to do about S.H.I.E.L.D. and just get it over with? Or are you really waiting until they send that giant green guy, or maybe a mutant?"

"I don't know what I want to do," he said quietly, and a little bit of Pepper relented.

"Have you even thought about it?" she asked in a tone that implied she had strong doubts that he had.

"Aside from the annoyance, no, not really."

"Which annoyance?"

"I don't like my privacy invaded like that. I don't like the thought that someone can disable Jarvis so easily. And I don't like the idea of being at someone's beck and call. I can barely stick to my own schedule. I can't imagine having someone else dictate where I need to be and when. You know, someone other than you."

He grinned at her briefly, but she just rolled her eyes.

"And I'm not sure how far I want this Iron Man thing to go. I mean, really, the only thing I know I want to do is take my weapons off the market. Maybe they're going to ask me to do things that I don't want to do. Put me in situations where my choices will be limited."

He paused, but it was clear to Pepper that he had more to say.

"I know that they call – they called me – the Merchant of Death. One of the… someone… well, he's probably dead now, but one of them called me the most famous mass murderer in all America." As he paused, Pepper felt her own annoyance drain away.

"And, they were right, of course. Political situations, they're never black and white, but killing someone, that's pretty black and white. You're alive, or you're dead, and if you're dead, someone helped you along to that state, or they didn't. But even so, that's pretty far removed. But Pepper… when I broke out… when I escaped, I killed people. I just killed them. Personally. In a suit of armor of my own making, I killed people. Yes, they had kidnapped me, tortured me… Yes. I killed them, and I would do it again. But that knowledge doesn't make me feel any better after the adrenaline drains away.

"And later on, in Gulmira, and afterwards… I didn't just blow up a cashe of weapons. Soldiers that protected them died, because I killed them.

"And Obi… He tried to kill me, several times. He was going to kill you. He had clearly gone insane, and maybe much earlier than I'd realized. But he was also like a father to me – sometimes more so than Dad ever was. And I killed him, Pepper. I killed him. But you know, he couldn't have built that suit without my prototype, and he couldn't have powered it without my arc reactor. I didn't make him build it, or steal my heart, or climb in it and try to kill you, I didn't force that on him, but it wouldn't have been possible without me. Without Iron Man. Without the suit, and the arc reactor. I'm the reason behind you nearly dying. The Merchant of Death strikes again."

"Tony, no."

"Yes, Pepper. It is true. It's absolutely true, don't you understand? Every time, or nearly every time I put that suit on, people die, because I kill them. And maybe it's a clear-cut case, and maybe it's a little bit closer to a shade of grey, but I can tell you right now, that I'm not sure I want someone else telling me who to aim a missile at. It's bad enough I've got to do it on my own in order to get my weapons off the market."

"Tony, if you never put that suit on again, that would be fine by me. Seeing you struggle out of it because the bullet holes have warped the outer hull to the point of it being painted on, Tony this is not something that fills my heart with joy. In fact, I think I hate it. But avoiding the question won't make it go away, and it may end up being a good thing. I'm not advocating that you join S.H.I.E.L.D., I'm really not. I'm advocating that you sit down to meet with Mr. Fury, and honestly, I'd like to be in the room. I realize that I'm not the superhero, and I don't mean to be Yoko, but if we're really in this together, I like to think that my opinion counts."

"You're opinion does count to me."

She smiled at him.

"Schedule the meeting. And definitely make sure you can be there, too." He sighed.

"And Tony?"

He looked over, and she took her sunglasses off so he could see her eyes. "I don't care what you've done, or what you have to do. I love you. Nothing you can do as Iron Man will change that, and everything you do as Tony Stark just confirms it."

"You're quite a catch, Pepper Potts," he replied, reaching over and taking her hand in his.

"Finally, you and my mother agree on something."

He smirked at her, and it was clear that the mood for both of them had lifted. "You ready for that swim, now?" he asked, beckoning the steward over. She nodded, and already she could feel the engines cut out and hear the anchor drop.

Pepper supposed one of the stewards would also be looking out for sharks. At least, that is what Pepper hoped as they moved to the aft deck. Swimming pools suddenly seemed like such good ideas…


	20. Speed Dial #3

She's not sure when it happened, because she's not sure when the last time was that she _looked_ at the phone before answering it when he called. That was the problem with personalized ringtones and a blue tooth headset, and damn it, he hadn't changed the ringtone since years ago. She'd chewed him out so badly at the time that he never dared try that sort of thing again. Until just recently, apparently. But this time he'd left the ringtone alone, and she hadn't noticed for God only knows how long. Given this, it _would_ be here, now, that she would realize.

"Hey, can I see your blackberry? I promise not to hack secure SI information."

Pepper forked over her blackberry, reaching across their Salmon Eggs Benedict. The café was at its usual din and she and Ann were having lunch there as they did once a month or so. It was bright and airy, and it served breakfast at all hours.

"I'm thinking about getting one of these," Ann said. "But I can't decide between this and the iPhone."

"Get the iPhone," she remarked dryly.

"What makes you say that?" she asked, navigating through onscreen menus with increasing concentration.

"Unless you're going to be doing a lot of typing it's probably better. And I've heard that once you get used to the iPhone keyboard, it's not so bad, so even that might not be the best selling point." Pepper continued to sing the praises of the technology that she herself was considering as an alternative to what her own assistant smiling referred to as her 'crackberry'.

The waitress came and went, refilling their coffee and it was about that time that her beloved decided to call. The ring was quiet and discrete, a soft chiming trill, and so it seemed completely out of all proportion for Ann to nearly choke on her coffee, force it down and start laughing hysterically in that way one does in public, trying desperately not to laugh but having it come out as something like a spastic snorting wheeze instead.

"I think it's for you," she managed to squeeze out in a tight, high voice, in between one laughing fit and another, handing the electronic device back to its owner.

Completely bewildered, Pepper almost didn't look at the screen, her thumb automatically going to the button that would answer the phone. But she did. And it informed her not that Tony Stark was calling, but that _Sex God_ was calling. She almost didn't answer the phone.

But when she did, it was with eyes narrowed. "Anthony Edward Stark," she said crisply, her voice soft, nearly a whisper. "I have told you before – _do_ _ **not**_ _fuck with my phone!"_

All that she heard from the other end was laughter. Looking over at her sister, still somewhat hysterical, Pepper just raised an eyebrow. Perhaps at some point in the near future, she too would find this humorous.

**Author's Note:**

> Weee! If you liked this story, tell me so in the reviews. 
> 
> If you loved this story, [go check out and sign up on my mailing list,](HTTP://goo.gl/forms/zd7HUIOLOc) because that is just gold. And I'll be eternally grateful. The purpose? You'll know when I publish stuff offline. D


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